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BEFORE THE DAWN 
by TOYOHIKO KAGAWA 


? 
se eS 


BEFORE THE DAWN 


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ay > te 


Aa ke 

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SOM ae ty. 
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BEFORE THE DAWN 
by TOYOHIKO KAGAWA 


TRANSLATED FROM THE JAPANESE 
BY I. FUKUMOTO anp T. SATCHELL .-. 


seein 

ee 

1 
“ee 
pron 
Te) 
oD 
CO 


LONDON 
CHATTO & WINDUS 
1925 


COPYRIGHT, 1924, 
BY GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY 


BEFORE THE DAWN 


—sB-— 


PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA 


RK OR 
mK 
HIS book was first published in Japa- 


nese under the title “Shisen Wo 

Koete” and an English version was 
brought out under the title “Across the 
Death-line? and met with a huge sale that 
approximated half a million copies in Japan 
and the East. The present text has been 
thoroughly revised by the same translators, 
and it is a faithful rendering of one of the 
most remarkable books of modern times. The 
present publishers must assume entire re- 
sponsibility for the change in the title. It 
is felt to be fully justified because of the 
false impression gained by many who saw the 
title for the first time and inferred that the 
book dealt with life after death, whereas 
nothing in recent years, unless it be the 
novels of Dostoievsky, concerns itself with 
this life and this day more passionately or 
more poignantly than this novel of a human 
spirit in search of truth. 


Tue PuB.isHERs. 


PREFACE 


OYOHIKO KAGAWA, the author of “Across the 

Death-line” (Shisen Wo Koete), was born in Kobé in 

1888 and was brought up in Tokushima Prefecture in 

Shikoku. After attending the Middle School of Tokushima he 

went to Tokyo, where he studied at the Meiji Gakuin, a Chris- 

tian College. Later he attended a private theological seminary 

in Kobé, and finally completed his theological education by spend- 

ing two years in America, whither he went in 1914, studying at 

Princeton University and Princeton Theological Seminary and 
obtaining the degree of Bachelor of Divinity. 

It was in 1910, when he was only twenty-two years of age, 
that Mr. Kagawa went to live in the slums of Shinkawa, on what 
was then the eastern boundary of Kobé, and with the exception 
of the two years spent in America he has lived there ever since. 
Although the labours of his pen have now brought him fame 
and fortune he has announced his decision that he will continue 
to live in the slums till he dies. 

Mr. Kagawa is not merely a charity worker and Christian 
teacher. He takes a strong interest in the Labour movement and 
is at present Secretary of the Japan Labour Federation. He was 
also second on the list of those nominated to represent the 
workers of Japan at the International Labour Conference, a 
nomination, however, which he declined. In 1921 Mr. Kagawa 
took part in encouraging the men in the great strike at the 
Kawasaki Shipbuilding Yard at Kobé, for which he was ar- 
rested and detained, but released without any charge being 
brought against him. In regard to his political opinions, Mr. 
Kagawa describes himself as a “Guild Socialist,” but there is 
nothing militant about his Socialism. He is, to coin a conveni- 
ent term, a “passivist,” inasmuch as he adheres strictly to the 
principle of non-resistance. The Christian Socialist movement in 
England of the last century has his sympathies. Apart from his 
political opinions the regard felt for him as a practical philan- 
thropist always ensures for him a respectful hearing. 

vil 


Vill PREFACE 


“Across the Death-line” was begun some sixteen years ago, 
but after three-fifths of it had been written it was thrown aside 
for other literary labour. Later, on the request of his publisher 
for further works from his pen, Mr. Kagawa took up the novel 
again and added the section dealing with the slums. The 
popularity of the novel when it was published in October, 1920, 
Was instantaneous. A new edition was called for before the 
month was out, followed by eight more editions in the early 
months of 1921. ‘The present translation is made from the 
tenth edition, but since that was issued the editions have run into 
hundreds and the book is still selling well. A conservative esti- 
mate gives the number of copies sold at a hundred and fifty 
thousand, 

Since the translation of ‘Across the Death-line” was com- 
pleted a continuation has appeared under the sub-title of “A 
Shooter at the Sun” (Taiyo wo iru-mono). It carries Eiichi’s 
life in the slums a stage further, and from it, with the permis- 
sion of the author, has been taken the chapter which forms the 
conclusion of the present translation. It has been added, not 
only as of interest in itself, but as removing the suspense as to 
Etichi’s fate which only a perusal of the continuation could other- 
wise satisfy. Mr. Kagawa is now engaged on a third volume of 
the novel, which, it is understood, will deal chiefly with Labour 
questions. 

Mr. Kagawa, it may be added, is a prolific literary worker in 
other directions, his publications, including volumes of essays, 
poems, dramas, theological works and scientific studies of social 
subjects, amounting in all to about twenty in number. 

The translators steadily kept in view the high ideal of making 
the translation read to those for whom it is intended as the 
original reads to those for whom it is intended. Nobody can be 
more conscious than themselves how far they have failed. Their 
only consolation is that had they not maintained this ideal they 
might have failed still more disastrously. In translating from 
languages so widely removed as Japanese and English there is 
not only the difficulty of finding turns of expression which shall 
convey the tone of the original, but there is also the difficulty 
that the Japanese mind does not respond in just the same way as 
the European. The intention is the same, but the mode of ex- 
pression differs. In these circumstances a literal translation, even 


PREFACE 1X 


if intelligible, serves only to give an air of quaintness, and as the 
Japanese themselves are not sensible of any such quaintness in 
their language, evidently a wrong impression would be created by 
any attempt at literality. Many devices have been resorted to in 
order to overcome this difficulty, even to the rendering of an 
expression by its value rather than its form, although this has been 
done as sparingly as possible. ‘The dialect which gives so much 
flavour to the original has been indicated, although no special 
consistency has been aimed at. In conclusion the translators have 
the hope that they have made the Japanese appear a natural, 
human people, and Japan a country where babies cry as much as 
anywhere else—where old people are as garrulous, young people 
as foolish, rich men as acquisitive, and poor men as patient as 
in any other quarter of the globe. 

It only remains for me to record the untimely death in July, 
1923, of my friend and collaborator Mr. I. Fukumoto, but for 
whose encouragement and valuable assistance this translation 
would never have been attempted. Whatever there is of ac- 
curacy in it must be ascribed to him; its faults I must bear myself. 
It is my melancholy privilege to have his name associated with 
mine on the title page. 

Acknowledgments are due to the proprietors of the “Japan 
Chronicle” of Kobé, in the columns of which the translation 
first appeared. 

THomas SATCHELL. 


TRANSLATORS’? NOTE 
le those not familiar with Japan a few remarks on the 


mode of life will make the novel more understandable. 

The Japanese live in houses made of wood and plaster. 
In the better class house there is a small entrance-hall and three 
rooms, the front room or guest-chamber, looking on to what 
garden there may be, an inner or middle room, and a back room 
opening on to the kitchen, the last being the sanctum of the 
housewife. All three rooms communicate with each other by 
sliding doors. ‘The floors are covered with mats of some two to 
three inches in thickness, of the regular size of six feet long and 
three feet wide, and the rooms are planned to contain so many 
mats. It is therefore convenient to state the size of the room by 
the number of mats it contains. ‘The doors are all sliding doors, 
those for admitting light (screens) being covered with a white 
translucent paper. A kind of narrow verandah or gangway con- 
nects the rooms from outside, so it is not necessary to pass through 
the rooms to get from one to another. On the outer edge of the 
verandah are sliding wooden shutters. ‘These are all packed away 
in the daytime, but are shut at night, enclosing the house like a 
box. Some of the better class houses now have both glass and 
wooden shutters, the glass shutters serving to keep out the cold 
winds in the daytime. 

There are no chairs or tables. Cushions take the place of 
chairs, and where the food is not served directly on the mats a 
very low table is used. Writing desks are also made low. 
Warmth is obtained by means of charcoal burnt in a brazier, the 
airy nature of the house preventing the fumes collecting to the 
danger point. 

Cooking is also done on charcoal braziers of another kind, 
which may be likened to stoves. The kitchen has generally only 
one or two mats, the larger proportion of the space being boarded. 
Moreover in the kitchen the flooring does not occupy the whole of 


the room, there being an unfloored part (described as “basement” 
xi 


xil TRANSLATORS’ NOTE 


in the translation in default of a better term) where the less 
cleanly part of the house duties is performed. 

In the guest-room the only ornament is an alcove, where gen-— 
erally a picture is hung and a vase placed. ‘There are no 
bedsteads, but quilts (wadded with cotton-wool) are spread on 
the mats to sleep on. ‘The coverlets are thinner quilts of the 
same kind. In the daytime the quilts are stored in cupboards 
built into the house. 

In regard to apparel, a kimono, with clogs or sandals, is gen- 
erally worn, though European clothes, with boots or shoes, are 
de rigueur among students, officials of all ranks, and office clerks 
with any pretensions to gentility. Women almost invariably wear 
kimonos, with clogs or sandals, although girl students are now tak- 
ing to shoes. ‘The kimono is too well known to need description. 
For male use there are two varieties, the long-sleeved and the 
tight or narrow-sleeved, the latter being chiefly worn by work- 
men and students. “The workman, however, has his own proper 
garb, which is a kind of short coat with the crest or trade- 
mark of his employer on the back, and very tight trousers or 
pantaloons. With the growth of the large factories the distinc- 
tive workers’ dress tends to disappear, however, dungaree’ and 
overalls taking its place. 

In regard to the pronunciation of Japanese, the consonants are 
pronounced as in English, except that “g” is always hard as in 
“oo” and “ch” always soft as in “‘each,” and the vowels as in 
Italian, “i” being sounded as in “pique,” “e” as in “‘ten,” etc. 
“Ei” is pronounced as in “‘vein,” and “‘ai” and “‘ae” as in “‘die.” 
Final “e’’ is always pronounced as in “‘saké,” ‘‘Kobé,” ‘‘Kat- 
sunosuké” (sounded almost like “Katsnoské’’), etc. 

‘The endings “machi,” “dori,” “cho,” and “michi’? correspond 
to the English “road,” “street,”’ etc. As it is sometimes difficult 
to separate them from the word to which they are suffixed, it 
has been thought best to leave them untranslated. 

The Japanese yen is roughly equivalent to the American fifty 
cents or the English two shillings. A hundred sen make one yen. 


XXI 
XXIT 
XXIII 
XXIV 
XXV 
XXVI 
XXVII 
XXVIII 
XXIX 


CONTENTS 


At Merjr University, 17 

A LrETTreR FRomM Home, 26 
RETURNING HomgE, 37 

THE House oF Numi, 44 
FATHER AND Son, 50 

His STEPMOTHER’s Home, 60 
BROTHER AND SISTER, 70 
Oxtp Memories, 82 

At THE MEETING Housg, 87 
Love AND Puitosopuy, 93 
A Vistr To THE Sums, 100 
AT THE Gate, 108 

THE Beccar Woman, 116 
A Love Scene, 125 

In THE AssEMBLY Hari, 132 
Encurs Mapness, 139 
DovupstTs AND Fears, 154 
Emr’ Fuicut, 160 
TsuruKo’s Departure, 175 
THE BepcLoTHEs, 178 
INCENDIARISM, 183 

Encut Leaves Home, 200 
In THE Deptus, 205 

In Busrness, 212 

A By-Exection, 218 

At THE GetsHa House, 221 
In DirFIcuttTigEs, 226 

A Loan, 229 

THe New Year, 236 


Xili 


XIV 
XXX 
XXXI 
XXXII 
XX XIII 
XXXIV 
XXXV 
XXXVI 
XXXVII 
XXXVIII 
XXXIX 
XL 
XDI 
XLII 
XLIII 
XLIV 
XLV 
XLVI 
XLVII 
XLVIII 
D4 50D, 


CONTENTS 


ConveERsION, 240 

THE CaPirAList, 248 

At Degatn’s Door, 257 
BLACKMAIL, 270 

Basy Kivxuine, 276 

MisERY IN THE SLuMs, 280 
SUFFERINGS OF THE Poor, 284 
“FIGHTING Yasu,” 287 
SANKO, 290 

AT THE OFFICE, 292 
CHILDREN OF THE SLUMS, 294 © 
SOME RouGH CHARACTERS, 298 
Tue Deatu oF SHrpatTa, 303 
LonELINEss, 309 

THE STEPMOTHER, 311 
Tsuruko Tamiya, 314 

Emrs Return, 317 

SUMMER IN THE Siums, 319 
Emr’s SECRET, 326 

Inari Worsuip, 330 

SOME CoNnvVERTs, 339 

KonuipE, 344 

KoHIDE IN THE SLums, 355 
Miss Hicucui, 367 

Kone AcaIin, 372 

Tue New Year, 375 

(DHE ISTRIBE on 

At THE Matcu Works, 382 


ConcLusion—Eucurs ExaMINATION, 393 


BEFORE THE DAWN 


CHAPTER 1 
At Meiji University 
RRRRRRRRRKRRKRKHK 


[Cee is a place near Shirokané in Shiba, ‘Tokyo, where 


three valleys meet. ‘There everything is fresh and 

green; only in the dank places of the ravine, where 
last year’s rice-stubs have not been ploughed up, is the ground 
bare. In the depth of the valley nearest to Osaki, where grow 
innumerable cryptomerias, whose tops seem to reach above the 
clouds, stands Marquis Ikeda’s mansion. On the hill nearest 
Shirokané there are one or two temples, but on the middle hill 
there are neither houses nor temples; only slender chestnuts and 
oaks grow in great profusion. ‘ 

On a glorious day at the beginning of May, a youth was 
lying in the shade on the grass on the middle hill reading a book. 
He looked above the medium height,—a slender figure, dressed! 
in a well-fitting black woollen uniform, the brass buttons of 
which were all marked with the letters ““M.G.” His face was: 
dreadfully pale, his nose high, and his cheek bones a little promi-- 
nent. His eyes were rather large and keen, and their shape 
showed their owner to be high-spirited. 

He was in the habit of coming to this place at intervals and 
opening a book, though of late not reading it very attentively. 
Rather he would shut his eyes and fall into a muse,—not of 
long duration, for he soon became sleepy. His dream over he 
would quickly turn to his book again, repeat some three or four 
lines, and then hasten back towards Shirokané along the field 
paths, 

17 


18 BEFORE THE DAWN 


To-day he had come again and opened his book according to 
custom. As he lay there, by a path above his head there descended 
leisurely a youth of about twenty, neatly dressed in Japanese 
clothes, with a cap, and carrying a stick. He was not tall, but 
he was stoutly built, with thick eyebrows, a hairy chin, and a 
ruddy face. He was returning that way from a walk, when 
catching sight of the uniformed student lying on his side reading 
a book, he stopped suddenly and called to him. 

“Halloa, Niimi, what are you doing there? Drop it, drop it!” 

“Oh, is that you, Suzuki,” called out the reader. “Where 
have you been?” 

“I? Qh, D’ve been in the direction of the Akara temple at 
Meguro. How can you read your old books or whatever they 
are in this glorious spring weather? If I had known you were 
idling away your time in this place I'd have taken you with me 
to Meguro. Melancholia again?” 

“Nonsense!” 

““What’s that book? Philosophy? Drop it, drop it!” and 
coming nearer Suzuki squatted down on the grass at Niimi?’s side 
and picked up the fallen volume. ‘What’s all this? Upanishads 
—is that the way you pronounce it? Hm! “The Sacred. Books 
of the East.? What is it?” 

“They are the Sacred Books of the East, which were probably 
written between 1300 and 600 3.c. Don’t you know them? 
The Rig Veda—didn’t you hear Mr. Kamimura refer to it yes- 
terday in his lecture on the history of Buddhism?” 

“Well, what about it?” 

“These developed from that.” 

“What funny things you read. I haven’t got time to read 
such books; I’m too busy preparing my lessons. You are a 
wonder. What’s it all about inside?” and he opened the book, 
which up to now he had only been looking at from the outside, 
and passing over the preface, which ran to about thirty pages, he 
began to read the text, which was printed in big type. “ ‘All is 
Brahma. We should meditate that in this universe everything 
begins, ends, and exists in Brahma.’ Aha, pantheism, eh? i It's; 
rather interesting though. But, Niimi,” he added, as he closed 
the book, “you don’t really believe in the mythical pantheism de- 
scribed in this book?” 

“You’ve got as much understanding as a child,” returned 


AT MEIJI UNIVERSITY 19 


Niimi. ‘Read just one book of Indian philosophy and then ask 
me that question again. Students who haven’t read a line of 
Indian philosophy have got into the habit nowadays of treating 
it very contemptuously. As long as you are on an inferior level 
that is mere folly. When you have reached a higher level then 
you can begin to call it pantheism or anything else you like.” 

Suzuki was in the class below Niimi’s. 

“Looking at the thing from the common sense point of 
view,” said Suzuki, “the law of cause and effect and matter are 
not one and the same thing. If the law which brings all things 
into unison becomes disjointed, how is it possible to get unison?” 

Niimi was nonplussed for a moment. 

“You should study the works of Spinoza,” he said. ‘‘What 
scientist with any training would believe the silly story of crea- 
tion and the rest? But you are an earnest Christian and came 
here to prepare for the ministry, and though I don’t pretend to 
be a Spinoza, I’m not going to persecute you for your faith. 
Create what gods you like. The indestructibility of matter, 
the conservation of energy, evolution,—how can 20th century 
civilisation, believing these things, credit such foolish stories 
about the creation of heaven and earth.” 

Niimi argued earnestly. 

“Yes,” answered Suzuki, “‘but the indestructibility of matter, 
and the conservation of energy, and evolution,—these are only 
suppositions,—matters of faith. I don’t know much about it, 
but they seem to be subjective deductions, not inductions. I 
have read something like that in logic.” 

“But Haeckel—have you read Haeckel? Monism, you know; 
‘the theory that mind and matter are the same thing seen from 
two different sides,—that we continue our evolution for ever, 
that is that we are becoming God.” 

‘The discussion had become a very earnest one. 

“Then what becomes of mankind when they die?” asked 
Suzuki. 

“They become atoms. ‘There’s nothing extraordinary about 
that, is there?” 

“What nonsense! Does God renew himself again from 
atoms? So I suppose evolution becomes devolution, and mo-= 
rality and the arts are only a dream.” 

“T can’t argue with you when you don’t understand.” 


20 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“However, it’s four o’clock,” said Suzuki, looking at his 
watch, “and supper will be ready in another half hour, so 
we'd better be getting back. We've had a good discussion 
to-day.” 

“Yes,” said Niimi, “‘let’s go back,” and he stood up and 
brushed the dust from his clothes. 

So, Suzuki leading, they both went along the narrow field 
paths, round the hill, up by the water-wheel, and along the fence 
surrounding the grove. 

“TDoesn’t Buddhism teach the same principles as modern 
science?” asked Suzuki. ‘Why did you enter the Meiji Gakuin?. 
You ought to have gone to the Buddhist University.” 

“Yes, from the philosophical point of view Buddhism is sound. 
But it is really worthless. From the time I was seventeen or 
eighteen I was attracted to philosophic questions and suffered 
great distress of mind. I attended the middle school in my 
native place for three years and when I was fifteen came up to 
Tokyo and drifted about from one school to another. I hardly 
ever took up my school books at that time, but spent my time 
from morning to night in reading poetry and philosophy and 
the magazines. I was in great distress of mind. I went to the 
Takanawa Buddhist Middle School. Did any one tell you?” 

“No, I didn’t know. So you’ve been fond of philosophy since 
you were a little boy. Whatever made you so fond of philos- 
ophy?” 

“Well, for one thing I lost my mother when I was ten years 
old, and was brought up by my stepmother, and the reason why 
I left home was because of the death of my elder sister. Natu- 
rally my heart seemed to turn to philosophy. I have heard that 
you became a Christian in ‘much the same way,—that you lost 
all your people in a tidal wave, and that if it had not been for 
that you would never have had any doubts about life, or thought 
about religion and God.” 

“Yes, it’s true. So you went to the Takanawa Middle School. 
What a funny place to go to! Buddhism’s worthless, is it?” 

“Yes, I went there to be relieved of my doubts, but it was 
useless. On the contrary my troubles increased, because I saw 
things from the inside.” 

“Vege? 

“T also became a disciple at the Kencho Temple at Kamakura, 


AT MEIJI UNIVERSITY 21 


but it was all foolishness. Zen, too. Nowadays Zen has become 
very popular, but Buddhism generally is like Zen,—only the out- 
line is left; the colouring is all gone, and all the dozens of 
temples at Kamakura have become mere lodging-houses. You 
probably saw in the paper the other day how they were going to 
sell the chief image of Buddha at the Raiko ‘Temple. It’s a 
masterpiece of Unkei, the famous sculptor, and is greatly ad- 
mired. Buddhism is a mere negation of morality and character, 
and then they humbug the uneducated by their talk. It’s use- 
less; it isn’t a thing that flesh and blood can believe in.” 

“Yes, that’s true. The Hongwanji scandals and so on have 
covered it with ridicule. But how was it that you came to a 
place like the Meiji Gakuin?” 

“My father forced me to study law and sent me to the First 
High School, but in the first term of the third year I was 
suddenly taken ill with hemorrhage of the lungs—my mother 
and elder sister, you know, both died of consumption,—and the 
doctor told me my lungs were affected. So I spent a year at 
Chikasaki and another year at Hachijo Island. After that I had 
lost all heart for the study of the law. I felt specially drawn 
towards religion, but as I was tired of Buddhism I thought I 
would spend a year or two at the Meiji Gakuin. So I came here 
in September last year.” 

“What do you think of the Meiji Gakuin?” and Suzuki looked 
in Niimi’s face. 

“T certainly thought that Christianity would be fuller of love 
than it is,”? answered Niimi. 

“Yes, I felt that too, especially when I first came here. But, 
Niimi, if you think the Christians in the country and the Chris- 
tians in Tokyo are the same you are making a mistake. ‘The 
true Christian is a Nathaniel who sits under his fig-tree in a 
corner in the country and dreams of the kingdom of God.” 

“T don’t think that the ancient fervour of Christianity wells 
up in the hearts of believers nowadays.” 

“Yes, I’m strongly of that opinion too. See how the Chris- 
tians nowadays form associations and such like during war time.” 

“Yes, and where have the dreams of the times of the apostles 
gone? ‘The fervour and fire which could brave the terrors of 
crucifixion have all disappeared.” 

“’That’s true. J’ve been praying for their return.” 


f 


/ 


22 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“But it all resolves itself into the economic question. You 
heard the argument I had with Hirano the other day,—at the 
Literary Society?” 

“You were scolded by the recorder, weren’t you?” 

/ “Yes, I caught it. But if you don’t put the spiritual world 
‘in the terms of the flesh you don’t get any response from people, 
do you? What would be the use of a Christianity which could 

ly make empires like that of China and not commonwealths 
like those of America and Britain? Isn’t that so? Our modern 
ideas of Socialism are a development from Christianity. Saint- 

Simon and Fourier, for instance, wanted to make the world as it 
was at the time of the apostles. Yes, if Christianity were not 
symbolised by the idea of Socialism . . . That’s why I told the 
recorder, “You can teach your school imperialism, but that’ s not 
Christianity, you know.’ ” 

“What did the recorder say to that?” 

“Well, he said that, at any rate, the Ministry of Education 
demands that any one propagating Sauialien among the students 
shall be kept under strict control, and I mustn’t deliver such vio- 
lent, destructive doctrines from the lecture platform before the 
students while I was in the school.” 

“"“T certainly don’t think that Christianity and our national 

system can be harmonised. I can’t altogether accept Socialism, 
but it’s very funny to hear Japanese believers going about saying 

hat Christianity and the national system do not clash.” 

“What fools! These worldly Christians are afraid of such 
sycophantic prostitutors of learning as Tetsujiro Inoué and Hiro- 
yuki Kato. But in spite of all their explanations why Christian- 
ity and nationalism do not clash, they do clashe How much 
better would it be for them to say positively that they do clash.” 

Going from subject to subject the two passed along by the side 
of the slaughter-house into a road planted on both sides with 
cryptomerias, proceeding in the direction of Shirokané. ‘There 
was a long pause in the conversation, and then Suzuki half mur- 
mured, ‘“‘What strange experiences you have had.” 

While they were still among the trees, just where the road 
turns to the right, they heard somebody calling after them, 
“Suzuki!” “Niimi!” 

Suzuki and Niimi stopped abruptly to see who it was and found 
it was the members of the Gluttons’ Club,—Tamura, Inoué, 


AT MEIJI UNIVERSITY 23, 


Matsuda, and Sanda, four high-spirited youths who were first=: 
year students in the higher school, having passed up from the 
lower school. 

Tamura occupied a room next to the dining-hall in the Harris 
Hall. He was of medium height, with his hair cut short, and 
still wore the cap of black cloth that he had worn for full four 
years from the time that he was in the lower school, although 
it was now very discoloured. He was the President of the Glut- 
tons’ Club. ‘Three times a day, towards meal times, before the 
dining-hall was opened, he would go and look through the key- 
hole to see what they were going to have to eat. One student 
had made a rhyme about Tamura, which ran:— 


When he gets up or is studying 
There’s a frown upon his face; 

But when he’s in the dining-hall 
It’s quite another case. 


Inoué, who was called “The Flesh,” was an amusing fellow 
who made a special study of love. He had curly hair and wore 
spectacles. After he had got into the higher school he let his hair 
grow long and parted it in the middle, and it was said that for 
the sake of making his hair flat he kept his hat on when he was 
studying in his room and even when he went to bed. 

Matsuda was called the “Fortune-teller.” He was of low 
stature and had a face like Daikoku, the god of luck. 

Sanda was tall and thin and laughed from morning till night 
over the most trivial matters, such as the width of a person’s 
nostrils or a dog slipping on some dirt in the road. 

Niimi and Suzuki stopped and waited while the four, laughing 
continually, came along together to where they were standing. 
They were all laughing as loud as they could, holding their sides 
and swaying backwards and forwards, and Niimi and Suzuki 
looked on in astonishment as the four, staring at Niimi, burst into 
laughter again and again, as though they were making game 
of him. Niimi felt as if he were being bewitched by evil 
spirits. 

“What do you mean by making fools of people?” he asked. 

Matsuda was the first to speak. 

“Oh, Niimi,” he said, “shall I tell you?” and he gave him a 
nudge. 


24 BEFORE THE DAWN 


‘Then Tamura joined in. ‘‘Ha-ha-ha! You said you were 
never going to get married, you are such a pessimist. And you 
didn’t attend school yesterday, but spent the day in bed.” 

“And then last night,” added Matsuda, “‘you went out with 
your hair nicely parted in the middle and without a hat, to 
Nihon-enoki, to: get something nice to eat in the street. What’s 
our philosopher been thinking of lately?” 

“What stuff you’re talking,” said Niimi, and he laughed 
feebly. ! 

Inoué followed Matsuda. “You looked awfully glum when 
you were eating those nice things,” he said. 

Sanda turned to Suzuki. ‘‘You live next door to the philos- 
opher,” he said. ‘Did he treat you last night?” _ 

“No,” said Suzuki, with a slight laugh. 

“I saw Niimi buying some sweet potatoes last night. He must 
have followed imperial principles and eaten them all himself, 
eh?” and Sanda laughed. 

As the six went walking on Niimi began to defend himself. 
“Last night, there was nothing very nice for supper,” he said, 
“so I went out to buy some potatoes.” 

“Really?” said Matsuda. 

“You are all always so full of spirits,” said Suzuki. 

““That’s because we eat two or three times as much as you do 
and so develop our energy,’’ replied President ‘Tamura, as repre- 
sentative of the others. 

‘‘Hear, hear,” cried the other three. 

Niimi went on silently. He was trying to be as lively as the 
members of the Gluttons’ Club, but he had a heavy heart within 
his breast and was in no mood for joking. ‘There came into his 
head an article that he had'read four or five days before in the 
Literary Digest about how everything turns to comedy in modern 
times. But in his heart he felt that the writer of that article 
could not guess the depths of his misery. Just then they were 
passing by a place where some houses were being built. A cart 
full of stones was standing there and the horse had his head in 
a feeding bucket, which was hung round his neck. 

When Niimi saw this he turned to Tamura. “Tamura,” he 
said, “that horse is cleverer than you. Look at him. You can’t 
eat like that without chopsticks.” 

All the others burst into laughter, but Tamura, with a very 


AT MEIJI UNIVERSITY, 25 


earnest face, said, ““Niimi, I don’t know much about Socialism, 
but isn’t it the same as gluttony?” and he kept a solemn face 
as he delivered his argument. 

“Bravo, bravo,” called out Sanda. 

“They cry, ‘Give us plenty to eat,’ don’t they?” went on 
Tamura, “and we are not behind them in demanding plenty to 
eat. Isn’t that so, Sanda?” 

“Certainly,” replied Sanda. 

Niimi only laughed. He was thinking how he could escape 
from their chaff. 

“What do you say to three cheers for the Meiji Gakuin Glut- 
tons’ Club?” cried Matsuda, looking at his companions. 

But Suzuki sniggered. ‘“The motion’s too previous, Matsuda,” 
he said. “If you’re going to change the name of the Gluttons’ 
Club to the Meiji Gakuin Socialist Party you’ll have to make 
Niimi president.” 

“All right; I agree,” said President Tamura. 

“I vote for the philosopher president, the love letter presi- 
dent,” called Matsuda. 

“T vote for him too,” said Sanda. 

“The fashionable president,” added Matsuda. ‘“The president 
with his hair parted, the president who stands and eats things in 
the street, the president who eats sweet potatoes all by himself.” 

While they were thus chaffing they had mounted the hill and 
had come to the gates of the Meiji Gakuin, where, at the call of 
Tamura, three cheers were given for President Nimi. Just 
then the bell at the boarding-house began to ring, summoning 
them to supper, at which they all burst into meaningless laughter. 


CHAPTER II 


A Letter from Home 


KM KMMK KKK KRKRRRAR 


FTER supper and a bath Niimi thought of going to his 
A room. He lingered awhile at the entrance to Harris Hall, 

however, though not for any particular reason. In one 
of the rooms the gas was burning. Probably the Juniors’ Asso- 
ciation was holding a meeting. The gas was also alight in the 
hall of President Yamakawa’s house. Between the hall and the 
President’s residence he could see the top of a steeple on which 
there was a cross, but in the twilight it was obscured by the leaves 
of the trees and could only be seen faintly, reminding one of a 
monastery ina wood. ‘The trees planted every year by the gradu- 
ates had become so dense that in the gloaming it seemed as if all 
the trees, branches and leaves were joined together. It was 
impossible to count them. Now the gaslight began to shine 
brighter. ‘The recreation ground was deserted. No lights could 
be seen in the Divinity School, but from Dr. Imbrié’s house 
small rays of light filtered through the surrounding trees. Hep- 
burn Hall seemed very vast and high and to occupy a large space. 
There the gaslight was shining from every room, and from some- 
where at the back came the monotonous sound of a piano. 

Some one was coming out of Hepburn Hall towards the place 
where he was standing. He was dressed in Japanese clothes with 
a cap, and Niimi soon recognised him as ‘Tsukamoto. When he 
was a short distance away Niimi called to him, but Tsukamoto 
went on despondently and did not answer till he was beginning 
to mount the steps to the entrance, when he saw Niimi. 

“Ah, Niimi, I’m awfully sorry. I was coming to see you 
yesterday, but I was busy all day. To-day, as I had to go to the 
Warden’s room I thought of calling in on you.” 

“Yes? Well, let’s go up to my room now,” and Niimi and 
he went up the stairs. They had gone up four steps and come 
to the landing when Niimi turned round for a moment. 


A LETTER FROM HOME 27 


“No good?” he asked. 

“That? No, it’s no good. The place was taken long ago by 
a Higher Commercial School student. And they say they don’t 
pay very well.” 

Niimi was not a little disappointed at this answer, but he did 
not betray his feelings and showed Tsukamoto into his room. At 
the top of the stairs on the left there was an opening, facing 
which was Suzuki’s room, with Niimi’s next door. Suzuki had 
gone out for a walk again after supper, and as his gas was not 
alight apparently he had not yet returned. 

Niimi entered his room and lit the gas, which shone into every 
corner and made the room look very cheerful. It was about 
eleven feet by nine feet, the walls white, with the lower part 
covered with panels painted a mixture of brown and sepia, which 
was a reminder that it had once been an old class-room. ‘There 
were two windows opening to the west and north, and on the 
south side there were sliding screens separating it from the next 
room. A table stood in the northwest corner and there was a 
large bookcase facing the door. 

“Please sit down,” said Niimi, pulling the gas down as far as 
it would go. It shone brilliantly over the desk and you could 
read the gold lettering on the backs of the books in the bookcase. 
Of class-books, there was only Williams’ Outline of Politics; all 
the others were theological books. The big red one was Flint’s 
Philosophy of History, and the thin blue book in four volumes 
was Pfleiderer’s Philosophy of Religion. Then there was a copy 
of Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason, which had apparently been 
well studied, and also books on Kant by Miiller and Caird. In 
the corner, in a yellow cover, was the Zend Avesta, and an open 
volume, apparently just thrown aside, of the Upanishads. ‘There 
was also a Bible. 

“Thank you,” said Tsukamoto, and entering he went across 
the room to look at a picture by Leloir, which was hung above 
the bookcase. 

“The more one looks at this the better it is,” he said. “I’m 
awfully fond of it.” 

“Are you fond of it too? The female figure, clasping a 
little boy in her arms, with that pensive background, seems to 
touch my heart for some reason or other and pleases me 
greatly.” 


28 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Tsukamoto began to laugh when Niimi spoke of the “female 
figure.” 

“Tt may sound a funny thing to ask,” he said, “but tell me, 
didn’t you receive a letter from a girl recently? ‘They say it 
made you blue.” 

“Where did you hear that?” 

“They were talking about it just now in Hepburn Hall. It 
all came from your being dispirited yesterday and not attending 
classes. Takada began it by discovering that you had received 
a letter from a girl four or five days ago, and he went about 
telling every one. And yesterday morning you said that you’d 
never get married, and you shut yourself up in your room. Is it 
true?” 

“No, all false. Five days ago I got a letter from my younger 
sister. “That was the letter that Takada was telling every one 
about.” 

“But Takada said that if it was a letter from your young 
sister you would be able to show it, but you didn’t show it to 
any one.” 

“T wasn’t able to show it to any one because there were some 
private matters in it. Fellows of that kind like making a fuss, 
and so he went about telling every one that tne philosopher had 
got a letter from a girl. Because this is the only time that I have 
received a letter from my sister since Pve been attending the 
Meiji Gakuin, and I haven’t got any girl friend, he makes a 
fuss, of course, about my having a sweetheart.” 

While Niimi was speaking the contents of his sister’s letter 
came back into his memory, causing his heart to sink. “Tsuka- 
moto was still standing, but Niimi sat down. 

“What about that matter?” he asked. 

Tsukamoto turned a little towards Niimi and glanced at his 
face while he fingered the bow of his Japanese cloak. “I’m in 
awful trouble,” he said. ‘I’ve just been to the Warden’s room 
to ask and he says it’s no good. I’ve decided to leave the school,” 
and ‘Tsukamoto hung his head. 

“Leave? Have you decided? I’m awfully sorry. But I 
suppose it can’t be helped. But if you ‘leave the school what are 
you going to do? If you could carry on for another two years 
you would be able to graduate in the high school and then you 
would have some social standing and be able to increase your 


A LETTER FROM HOME 29 


knowledge of foreign languages, which would be awfully con- 
venient. Still, you have received some benefit from the three 
years you have spent in the Meiji Gakuin.” 

“Yes, I certainly won’t forget the three years I have spent 
here. I can’t forget them. Still, I don’t want any more favours 
shown me. It is true I sell things to the fellows in the dormi- 
tory, but nevertheless I feel as if I were squeezing money out of 
them, showing them my cakes. I have thought many times that 
I would give up selling cakes.” 

“No, no, that’s not so. It isn’t a bad thing to sell cakes. If 
you didn’t sell them cakes they would all go outside to buy them, 
so it’s the same thing. What did the Warden say?” 

“The Warden? Oh, he said that he couldn’t square his ac- 
counts because my board was three months in arrears, and as I 
couldn’t settle up, although I promised yesterday that I would 
pay up one month at least, there was nothing to be done. ‘They 
couldn’t keep students on charity, so for the present I had better 
leave the boarding-house. I was in the wrong and I hadn’t any 
excuse, so I simply said ‘Yes’ and came away.” 

“That was a funny thing for the Warden to say.” 

“He spoke the truth.” 

“Well, I should call it rather impudent. They couldn’t 
provide board on charity so you’d better get out. It would have 
been all right if they had waited for the month to elapse.” 

“But really, when a fellow’s late with his board as I am it 
gives trouble, doesn’t it?” 

“Yes, but the Warden’s a Christian, isn’t he? He knows your 
circumstances. Even if it does give trouble not to pay up just 
now, he ought to make an effort to meet your expenses for the 
sake of your education. But, I say, if you were to pay up for 
one month would they let you stay on temporarily?” 

“I suppose so,” Tsukamoto spoke sadly, in a low voice. 

“Well, I say, Tsukamoto. If there’s . . .” and Niimi reso- 
lutely stretched out his hand and took from the drawer of his 
desk a five-yen note. ‘Here, Pll advance you this,” he said. 
“Go and pay the Warden. ‘Then you’ll be able to go on studying 
if only for a little while. You needn’t trouble about giving it 
back to me. Tl lend it to you in perpetuity.” 

“But, I say, I haven’t paid you the four yen I borrowed last 
month and it would be a shame to take this too. You’ll want 


30 BEFORE THE DAWN 


it to buy some books. I can’t take it. On the contrary it is you 
who ought to have four yen from me,” and shamefacedly ‘T'suka- 
moto refused to take the money. 

“But look here, you know my motives. Rather than read 
another book I’d like you to study for another month. You know 
I would, don’t you?” Niimi had become very earnest. 

“T know your good intentions, but . . .” 

The sentence trailed off into nothingness. 

“Tsukamoto,” said Niimi, “look here. As a matter of fact 
I received this from my sister. I only changed the postal order 
to-day. I haven’t got overmuch to meet my school expenses, as 
you may have guessed from the fact that I asked you to find 
me some work in translating. I haven’t got very much, but it 
only means that I won’t be able to buy more books, so if you 
take it as a gift it will be all right.” . 

The explanation was given sympathetically and with kindly 
common sense. 

“Well, Pll accept it temporarily,” said Tsukamoto, peeping 
into the next room to assure himself that no one was there. 

“Tt isn’t a question of borrowing,” said Niimi. 

“Thank you,” said Tsukamoto, and was silent. 

Niimi was also silent for a time. Then he asked, “Are you 
going to attend the school all the same?” 

“Well, after the way the Warden’s treated me I think I will 
leave the boarding-house for a little time and try to get a posi- 
tion as private tutor in English, so as to save money for my school 
expenses. That was what I was thinking of doing. What do 
you think?” 

“But will you be able to get back into the school again?” 

“T don’t know, but I think Ill try.” 

“The world doesn’t always go as we want it to, does it?” 

Tsukamoto looked down and was silent. ‘The glaring gas- 
light glittered upon the pomade on his curly hair. 

“When you go out into the world you want faith. I don’t 
know what trouble I wouldn’t go to to get faith.” 

Tsukamoto, leaning with his arm on the window-sill, gazed 
at the gaslight. 

“But I don’t understand God and Christ,” he said. “I look 
upon Christianity as superstition,” and he ‘smiled slightly. 

“But it is not. I am not a Christian, but whatever you may 


A LETTER FROM HOME 31 


think you can’t say that there is no truth in its religious aspira- 
tions as they have flowed on through four thousand years of his= 
tory. I have not yet fully grasped the meaning of the Cross 
myself, but there can be no doubt as to the greatness of Christ’s 
character.” | 

“Well, I know something about His greatness, but I don’t 
understand it. Don’t those who believe in Him and those who 
don’t, go about their daily lives in the same way? It sometimes 
happens that those who don’t believe behave better than those 
who do.” 

Tsukamoto ventured on strong opposition. 

“Youre always saying that,” said Niimi, “but see if you are 
able to get on in society without faith?” Niimi was thinking of 
his young sister and his native place. “But life is a tragedy, 
isn’t it?” he added. 

Tsukamoto merely smiled again slightly. ‘“You’re always 
talking about things being tragedies or comedies, aren’t you? 
Life is neither a tragedy nor a comedy to me. I really don’t 
know what anything is.” 

Niimi lent on the desk with his cheek on his hand and was 
silent. ‘T’sukamoto’s words found an echo in his own heart. 

In a little time Tsukamoto departed and Niimi took his sis- 
ter’s letter out of the drawer of his desk and read it again. It 
was written with a queer mixture of literary phrases and collo- 
quialisms which made it difficult to read. 

“T take my pen in my hand to write you a line. Dear brother, 
T hope you are well. I must apologise for not having written to 
you for along time. I am very well, so do not be anxious about 
me. I am crying every day, Sometimes I think I would rather 
die. My stepmother in the country works me hard and is scold- 
ing me about something or other every day from morning till \ 
night. She says, “You’re Mrs. Kamé’s child, ain’t you? What 
makes you so stupid?’ That is the way she scolds me tei) 
And she doesn’t give me enough to eat. She treats me worse 
than the servant. I can’t bear it. I ran away to my. father’s 
house some forty days ago. But father doesn’t love me a bit. 
And father’s new mistress, she does indeed treat me badly. Since 
I came here I have been crying every day. Please save me, dear 
brother. I have only you, brother, to trust to. And father is so 
angry with you, brother. He said he would not send you any 


32 BEFORE THE DAWN 


more school money from this month. Please take this five yen 
to help pay yourischool expenses though it is only a trifle. I am 
thinking if I can run away to Tokyo to you, for you to keep me. 
Rather than work for my stepmother in the country or for Umé 
+t would be much better to go to Tokyo and work as a servant. 
Dear brother, if you can think of anything good, please let me 
know quickly. It is so dreadful that I can’t write for tears. I 
have a lot more to tell you, but I can’t do it now. Please take 
care of yourself. 

“PS. Please send an answer quickly.” 

Reading it, Niimi felt great sympathy with his sister. He read 
it twice and his tears began to flow. They were not only for his 
sister; he wept also for the hard fate of ‘I'sukamoto and him- 
self. Bending over the desk and holding his head in his hands, 
he had fallen into deep thought, when he heard a sound of foot- 
steps in the next room, and Tsukamoto say, “Well, look here, 
I’ve got five or six yen, but there were some other expenses I 
was obliged to meet and I’ve already spent a yen of ity? iy, DREN 
he heard some one politely answer “Thank you,” and Tsuka- 
moto’s farewell as he went out and tramped down the stairs 
without pulling the sliding door to after him. | 

“There, again,” Niimi heard another voice say, and then it 
added, “I say, Tanaka, isn’t Tsukamoto a rotter?”’ 

“Awful. He sells cakes to the fellows and then doesn’t pay 
his own board bill but spends the money in eating, and his ex- 
cuses are all lies. When he goes to another fellow’s room he 
always goes away leaving the door open after him.” 

The voice was that of the student who had spoken politely to 
Tsukamoto. 

Niimi was startled when he heard this and, wiping away his 
tears, he called out “Tanaka,” trying to conceal his own grief 
by making his voice big. He was calling to the student who 
lived in the next room. 

“Yes, what is it?” replied a rather startled voice. 

“Does Tsukamoto tell lies?” asked Niimi. 

Tanaka was still more startled. “I say,” he said, “I wouldn’t 
worry about that.” 

“Yes, but mayn’t I ask?” 

A younger voice joined in. “It-t-t was nothing.” 

This was Kasuga. 


— ee eee 


a 


A LETTER FROM HOME 33 


“T say, Kasuga, what lies did Tsukamoto tell you?” 

“Do you know Shoda of the lower school?” 

“Yes, I know him. What about him?” 

“Well, it’s reported that he gave Tsukamoto a thrashing the 
other day.” 

“A thrashing? Why?” 

“Well . . . but perhaps I’d better not tell him, eh, Tanaka?” 

“Tell me,” said Niimi. 

“Do you want to hear so very much?” said Tanaka. “You're 
very inquisitive,” and he gave a satirical laugh. 

“No, I’m not inquisitive, but I’m rather intimate with T’suka- 
moto, and it’s necessary that I should know.” 

““N-N-Niimi, Tsukamoto’s a bad lot. He sells cakes to buy 
things to eat. That’s become his practice. He spends quite a 
lot of money in eating outside, and then he can’t pay his board 
bill. Shoda heard about this and got angry. He said that it 
was necessary to punish Tsukamoto, and the night before last, 
they say, he gave Tsukamoto a thrashing behind the Theological 
College. Tsukamoto says he can’t pay for his board because he 
has to give such a lot of credit. But that’s only his excuse. ‘The 
fact is that he eats it all up in apples and cake.” 

Niimi was surprised when he heard this, but still he thought 
it was a shame that poor Tsukamoto should have been thrashed. 

“T think Shoda was really in the wrong,” he said. 

“Why?” It was Tanaka who was asking. 

“Well,” said Niimi, “you know that Tsukamoto only gets 
eight yen a month, and out of that he has to give a yen’s credit 
and his lodging costs him another yen, so he has only six yen left. 
If he pays six yen for his board and gets his tuition fees remitted 
he hasn’t got a penny left for himself. Moreover, in return for 
the remission of his tuition fees he has to work one or two hours 
after school, and on the top of that he has to study and take 
exercise. It’s a pretty cruel state of affairs that doesn’t allow 
Tsukamoto any pleasures, isn’t it? I wonder whether it is nec- 
essary for mankind ¢o exist without any pleasures.” 

Certainly Tsukamoto showed a lack of will-power. Repeat- 
edly he had come to Niimi to borrow money to buy the cakes he 
sold, but had never returned it. Still, Niimi had never condemned 
him for that, and even now his attitude was unchanged. 

Up to now the conversation had been carried on through the 


34 BEFORE THE DAWN 


sliding screens which separated the two rooms and kept the dis- 
putants from seeing each other. ‘This seemed somehow to hamper 
the discussion, and Tanaka now pulled back the screen and came 
into Niimi’s room with “That’s all right what you say, but you 
know. .. .” Kasuga followed him. Tanaka was about twenty- 
two or twenty-three years of age. He was tall and had a com- 
manding look, but there seemed to be something \vanting about 
him. He was in the same class as Tsukamoto, which was one 
below Niimi’s. He also had to work for his school expenses, 
lending a hand in the boarding-house in collecting the board 
money, for doing which his own board money was remitted. 
Kasuga was about sixteen or seventeen,—a fine-looking fellow 
in the first-year class of the higher school. The two were bosom 
friends,—whether at study or at play, at exercise or on a journey 
or at church, they were never apart. This was because they had 
certain characteristics in common,—a great love of adventure 
and of nature. In the middle of the night, even, they were some- 
times to be seen standing in the middle of the recreation 
ground,—Kasuga carrying a book on astronomy and ‘Tanaka 
carrying a lantern to enable them to read, while they studied 
the constellations. 

They stood by Niimi’s desk to hear his explanation about Tsu- 
kamoto. ‘Tanaka had his hand on Kasuga’s shoulder, and was 
looking down on the desk. He began speaking very quietly. 

“Your arguments are too extreme,” he said. “I think ‘T’suka- 
moto’s punishment was quiet proper. Tsukamoto’s studying at 
other people’s expense, isn’t he? Therefore he has no right to 
claim any enjoyment. In the first place he is wrong to rely upon 
other people for money. , It’s a great favour to be allowed to 
work one’s way through school, isn’t it? If on top of that you 
want to have enjoyment as well, then you'd better leave the 
school.” Bale 

The sensitive Niimi\ felt as if he wanted to cry when he heard 
Tanaka’s cruel arguments. 

/“Tanaka,” he said, “I don’t like to hear such colourless argu- 
‘ments from an upright Christian like you. If you Christians are 
satisfied with such shallow morality then you ought to desert all 
the churches throughout Tokyo and go to hear the sermons at the 


Zojo temple. It is certainly_the heartlessness of you Christians 
which is expelling Tsukamoto from the dormitory and thus caus- 


A LETTER FROM HOME kis 


ing him to suspend his studies. The Warden has no sympathy 
for him; you have no sympathy for him; it seems that there is 
nothing for ‘T'sukamoto to do but to abandon his studies. Chris- 
tianity thus appears to be only a set of doctrines. Really if you 
say ‘Amen’ with your lips, oughtn’t you to sell your clothes and’ 
your books and help Tsukamoto? Remember that it is you 
Christians that have already made him an outcast.” 

Niimi spoke excitedly, with tears flooding his eyes. 

“Then suppose you try it to begin with.” 

“I, at least, am confident that I am doing something for 
him.” 

ut I doubt whether you can put your views into practice.” 

“But what did Christ say? Christ is not in your hearts. The 
Churches are the enemies of Christ,”? and Niimi tried to wipe 
away his tears unobserved. 


room. ‘Then, after some talk in an undertone, they turned out 
the gas and both went off somewhere. 

Niimi was left weeping. 

His tears continued. to.fall as he thought of the low morality 
of the Christians and their churches; cf how he himself, by the 
end of the month, would be among those who had to earn their 
board and tuition; of poor Tsukamoto’s fate; and of his stupid 
little sister. He sobbed when he thought of the unfortunate cir- 
cumstances in which he and his sister were placed. 

Suddenly Niimi came toa decision. It might seem a com- 


<A ete tea yeh 


ad 


country with his only sister, who was loved neither by her father 
nor her stepmother? 

He decided that he would return home that night immediately, 
and after a little anxious consideration as to how to meet his 
travelling expenses, he determined to sell his books. 

When he went down to draw some water at the well to wash 
his face he saw the Great Bear high up in the sky to the north. 


36 BEFORE THE DAWN 


of the Cross.” 
ile he was washing his face Suzuki came back from Hep- 


burn Hall. Niimi told him of his intention to return home, and 
as he wanted to catch the half-past ten train, he asked Suzuki to 
call a second-hand bookseller. 

A solitary student entered the 10.35 train for Kobé at Shin- 
agawa that evening and started for the lonely west, after saying 
good-bye to some five or six friends who had come to see him off. 
That student was Niimi. oe 


| 
q 
; 
: 


CHAPTER Ill 


Returning Home 


RRRRRRRKRAKRKAKKEK 


S the train was full Niimi stood up till they reached Kan- 
ee After leaving Kanagawa he spread a blanket on 
the floor and sat down on it and slept. They reached 
Nagoya at seven o’clock in the morning, and it was while nearing 
Gifu that he had a bad dream. 

A gloomy view of what he was doing made him tremble. 
For what purpose was it? What would it lead to? These 
questions he asked himself and there was no answer. Only there 
remained in his mind the idea of comforting his sister and of 
attempting to tell his father all that he felt. The idea of “home” 
did not attract him. It only aroused recollections of sadness and 
gloom. ‘The name of Kobé also sounded hateful in his ears. 

Kobé was his birthplace. There he had been born twenty-two 
years ago. There, till the age of ten, he had been brought up. 
‘Those hills and seas had been his education. When he was ten 
years old his mother had died, and he and his elder sister had 
been placed in charge of the real wife at her home in Itano dis- 
trict, in Awa Province, Shikoku. At that time he had been 
separated from his younger sister and two younger brothers. He 
still recalled his elder sister and himself standing on the deck 
of the steamer. His thoughts passed to the dark gloomy house 
where death had separated him from his mother. At the end of 
Hyogo pier there was a warehouse with the words “Yamamoto 
Icehouse” on it in large letters, and to the east of that, next door, 
was his own house, No, 32 Shimagami-cho. ‘To the west there 
was a small temple,—the famous Chikuto Temple. If you went 
to the east and turned a little you came to the Commercial Bank. 
‘The houses in the street were all low and dirty, the road was 
ash-coloured, and for some reason the air was oppressive. On 


the eaves of his house there was a street lamp, on which, almost 
37 


38 BEFORE THE DAWN 


effaced, you could just read the name “Niimi.” The house had 
wooden bars over the windows, and at the entrance there was a 
board on which was written “Japan Mail Steamship Co. Booking 
Office for Freight and Passengers.” Opposite was the thatched 
house of Yamamoto, the millionaire of the neighbourhood, who 
owned the ice-house, and to the east there was a chemist, and 
next to that, in a corner house, a barber. Between the two there 
was a little shrine dedicated to Jizo, the god of children. ‘The 
barber’s house faced east and was the corner house of Isono-cho. 
Opposite the barber’s was an ironmonger’s; the daughter of the 
ironmonger was a friend of his dead elder sister. Behind the 
ironmonger’s was a rikishaman’s, and in front of the ’rikisha- 
man’s there was a well, with a road by the side of it running 
down to the seashore. Opposite this road there was a dealer in 
wood and charcoal named Izutsu, and next door was Shirotani’s, 
the home of a friend of Niimi’s in his boyhood. West of the 
thatched house and just in front of Niimi’s barred windows, was 
the back of Fujii’s, and next door to Fujii’s was Oguri’s. He 
was a rice broker. Then next to that was the back of Amo’s, and 
behind Amo’s was the well spoken of before. Niimi recalled 
that on the summer evenings the ’rikishamen used to bathe them- 
selves with the water from the well. Oguri’s house was for- 
merly tenanted by a rich man named Hasegawa, but he failed 
on the share market and removed to Osaka. His son and Niimi 
were school friends, he remembered, and used to fight often. 

One bitter memory came back to him—that of a certain 
autumn evening when he and young Hasegawa had had a quarrel. 
His opponent had come out with the door-bar and he himself 
had also got the bar from his own door. When they were just 
beginning to come to bluws, Kumakichi, the clerk, had called 
him, and he had gone in very reluctantly. His mother, who 
had been sick so long, was just dead, and the clerk told him to 
go and see her. He went upstairs,/but she had just drawn her 
last breath and he could only gaze in awe on her livid face. 

Whenever he thought of this a shudder ran through him. 
Passing Osaka and nearing Kobé Niimi’s recollections of the 
past became still more vivid, and his future darkened before 
him. 

When he got off the train at Kobé Station his heart was beat- 


RETURNING HOME 39 


ing wildly and the blood seemed to be running through his veins 
like fire. Just the thought of what was going to happen made 
his whole body tremble with fear. He was so impatient to 
finish the affair quickly that he was hardly able to keep still in 
the ’rikisha. But to jump from the ’rikisha and run all the way 
home would seem like the act of a madman, and he clenched 
his hands and fixed his gaze on the ’rikishaman’s legs. 

He told the ’rikishaman to go to 32 Shimagami-cho, but when 
he got there the signboard with the name Niimi had disappeared 
and also the street lamp. Amo’s name was on the house and 
the door was shut. Inquiring at the chemist’s next door he found 
that they had moved the previous month to Kajiya-cho. He went 
along to the Commercial Bank and then turned to the left into 
Kajiya-cho, along which he went to the Daikoku bathhouse, as 
he had been told, and there, on the other side of the street, was 
the lamp with Niimi on it. It was now six o’clock in the evening 
and the streets were filled with the yellowish haze of twilight. 
Somehow or other Niimi felt lonely, and as he pondered on why 
they had left Shimagami-cho, where they had lived for over 
twenty years and to which they had grown so accustomed, he 
felt still more lonely. 

Outside the new house was much more imposing than the 
old one. ‘There were glass doors at the entrance, and in the 
iron-barred windows there were glass frames, and he noticed 
white lace curtains. 

Entering he was surprised to find that there was no one there 
whom he knew. ‘Two years before, in the winter, just before 
going to the Bonin Islands, Niimi had paid a flying visit to Kobé. 
At that time his father was still a member of the Diet, and as 
the Diet was then in session his father was not at home. But 
he saw the old manager, Seihei Shima, who had been with them 
for twenty years, and somehow or other his presence had given 
him a sense of security and he had felt that he was indeed re- 
turning home. Now, on this evening, seeing no one he remem- 
bered, he was surprised. 

There were three clerks, all busy with account books. The one 
sitting in front of the safe was probably the manager. He was 
a man about thirty-five years of age, his hair neatly parted, with 
a rather sharp-tempered face and a wrinkle between his eye- 


40 BEFORE THE DAWN 


brows. He laid down his pen as Niimi entered and said “Good 
evening,” whereupon the other two lifted up their heads from 
their books. Niimi then saw that one of them was a young man, 
and the other a tall man with almond eyes and thick eyebrows 
and a good complexion. 

Niimi decided to ask if that was Mr. Niimi’s office. The per- 
son who seemed to be the manager replied that it was and then 
politely inquired Niimi’s name. 

“T am Eiichi,” he replied. 

“Ah, Mr. Eiichi,” and the manager rose. “Please come in. 
‘The office is all in disorder, so please come upstairs.” 

The manager’s reception was so polite that Niimi felt pleased 
and decided to go in. ‘The ’rikishaman brought in his luggage 
and after it was all brought in Niimi was conducted upstairs. 
At the top of the stairs there was a largish room and: next to 
that a smaller room, but the ceiling was so low that the room 
looked mean. There were clerks’ clothes hanging all about the 
rooms, giving them the appearance of a clothes-press. “They 
went into a third room at the back, of medium size, and there 
Niimi saw a woman of about forty lighting a lamp. When she 
had finished she bowed to him and went hurriedly downstairs. 
The lamp lit up the room. ‘The person who had accompanied 
him upstairs brought a leather cushion out of the corner. 

“Please sit down,” he said, and he himself sat down very 
formally on the mats near the door. 


Eiichi followed his example, although the other kept urging ~ 


him to sit on the cushion. 

“This is the first time that I have had the honour of seeing 
you, said the manager. ‘“‘My name is Sankichi Murai. I beg 
your kind patronage,” and he bowed very low. 

Niimi knew that his own name appeared as the head of the 
house in the official register, but he did not display any pride. 

“T am Ejichi,” he said. “I hope to have your kind acquaint- 
ance,” and he bowed. 

Murai looked at Eiichi with a strange expression and asked 
him about his school. 

“TI ought to attend another year,” Niimi replied, “but for 
some private reasons . . .” and his voice faltered. 

“T believe it is a Christian schcol you have been attending?” 

“Yes, a Christian school.” 


OO ee 


RETURNING HOME 41 


“The master said something about it the other day. Have 
you some business at Tokushima?” 

“Yes, something occurred to me ... Has my father been 
here lately?” 

“Well, he’s been, very busy lately and we only see him about 
once every three months, but we had the pleasure of seeing him 
the other day when we were moving and he came over for a 
little time.” 

He clapped his hands and, looking towards the stairs, called 
for tea and the tobacco-box. Then, after apologising, he started 
downstairs, but stopped to ask whether Eiichi had had his supper 
yet. In the meantime the woman whom Niimi had seen light- 
ing the lamp came up, and Murai whispered something to her. 

Niimi looked round the room. He noticed there was in the 
alcove the same hanging roll that he could remember for more 
than ten years,—indeed, he could not remember a time when 
it was not familiar to him. Next to it was a vase which his 
father, many, many years ago, when he was a young man and 
was sent on a business trip by Etichi’s grandfather, had bought 
in a fit of extravagance at Kanazawa. He also remembered the 
ebony stand for the vase, and the magnificent ebony desk that 
stood in front of the window. Nor had he forgotten that he 
had been told that the screen in the corner had been given his 
father by Suichaku Nii, the artist. He recalled the history of 
each article in the room, one after another, and a feeling of 
wistfulness came over him. ‘Then he remembered that he was 
returning to ‘Tokushima and would meet his father face to face. 
His heart quickened as he wondered what would happen. 

Murai returned to his former seat. 

“How has your health been since your illness?” he asked. 

Niimi felt some diffidence. ‘Thank you,” he said. “My 
disease cannot be quite cured, you know, but it gives me no 
trouble now. I felt rather anxious last year at spending the 
winter in Tokyo, but I wasn’t even laid up with a cold and my 
health was excellent.” 

“Ah, that is very satisfactory.” 

“Thank you, yes . . . Are Hozumi and Mori not still with 
your” 

Niimi was asking after a clerk and an apprentice whom he 
had seen there two years before. 


42 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Yes, they are here still. They are probably still out in the 
bay. The sea is rather rough to-night and the launch is proba- 
bly delayed.” 

“What is the name of the steamer?” 

“The Tosa-maru. She’s lying a long way out and they can’t 
come back except on the launch.” 

As he spoke two children, one carrying a cake dish and the 
other a tobacco-box, came up the stairs. After them came their 
mother. Both the children had high, bulging foreheads, and like 
their father their eyes were deep-set. Neither of them was pre- 
possessing. ‘Their mother was the woman whom Niimi had seen 
lighting the lamp. She had wavy hair, rather thin, and a large 
mouth. The three descended again after making the customary 
salutations. 

Murai pressed Niimi to stay the night, but Niimi said that he 
was in a hurry and that he must go on. Just then Murai’s wife 
and the two children came up again, carrying the supper, which 
was in foreign style and had been brought from a neighbouring 
eating-house. Niimi was at a loss to know what to say, so de- 
pressed was he. He took up the fork in order to try to eat 
something, but he felt ill at ease. He asked what time the 
next steamer went to Tokushima, and while he was getting his 
supper Murai rang up the shipping office on the telephone and 
asked. 

“The sea’s rather rough to-night,” he reported as a result 
of his inquiries, “and in consequence the steamers are a little 
late in leaving Osaka. ‘The ten o’clock boat won’t be here till 
twelve and the twelve o’clock boat till one.” 

Murai’s wife suggested that as it was then only seven o’clock 
the young master should take a bath and have a good nap before 
the boat started. ‘“‘Because you won’t be able to sleep on the boat 
for the roughness,” she added, “and you're tired for certain 
with your train journey.” 

So after supper, according to the woman’s direction, he went 
downstairs to go to the Daikoku bathhouse, which was nearly 
opposite. When he got down the young man in the office intro- 
duced himself as Yamada, while the one with the good com- 
plexion introduced himself as Hosokawa. ‘The woman brought 
him a large towel from the back room and also a nickel soapbox. 
Just then Hozumi and Rokuya Mori came back. : 


a ii ii i i i ‘~~. ™ 


RETURNING HOME 43 


“Ah, Bonbon,” they cried, “are you off to Tokushima? When 
did you come from Tokyo?” 

Rokuya went out into the back. 

“Are you going to the bath?” said Hozumi. “T’ll join you 
after I’ve had my supper,” and he drew aside the reed-curtain 
and went into the kitchen. 

Niimi heard Hozumi’s manly young voice telling them in the 
kitchen how rough the sea was, and then he went out to go to 
the bath. 


¢ 


CHAPTER IV 
The House of Niimi 


MR MRK RKARKRRKRKKKA 


N the bathhouse Niimi unexpectedly met Yoshitaro Yoshida, 
| who had worked for twenty years with his father’s firm. 
Niimi thought that he was still with the firm, but he noticed 

that Yoshitaro did not greet him very warmly. 

*“The house ain’t what it was,” he said while he scrubbed 
himself, “since your father came to be mayor. Amo’s got an 
attachment on the goods, and the wages ain’t paid and the tele« 
phone’s pledged.” 

‘There were many people in the bath, but Yoshitaro went on 
talking unconcernedly. However, the bath was so crowded that 
nobody lent an ear toewhat he was saying. 

“Bonbon,” he went on, “if you turn out like your father 
there’ll be trouble,—spending his money on women and the 
office all cleared out. I told the master time and time again, but 
the master, he don’t take any notice of what Yoshitaro says. I 
had no wages, I didn’t, for four months. So I made a bargain 
with the master that he’d sell me a lighter, and I’m using it 
now. .. . Master Eiichi, if you don’t put things right the firm 
of Niimi’s done. The master, he’s gone on that woman Umé he 
took out of the Gimpuro, and she’s sticking to him. He’s built a 
big house in the main street of Tokushima, so they say, and I 

madam in the country is troubled about it. But, Master 
/ Eiichi, your mother was a clever woman. If she’d been alive 
{ would the master have spent the money in the way he’s done? 
Ah, she was a clever sort. Do you remember her, Master Eiichi? 
You’re just the image of her,—such a pretty thing she was.” 

He went on chattering without giving Eiichi time to answer. 

“And the old grandmother?” Eiichi asked. 

“Gammer? She’s getting old, so she gave up Niimi’s and 

stops at home to look after the children. The wife died in 
a+ 


| wwe —— —— 


THE HOUSE OF NIIMI 45 


February. Murai’s wife, she that’s in the office now, she makes 
the money fly this way and that. Look at my old Gammer. She 
was twenty or thirty year at Niimi’s. But Murai’s missus, she’s 
too pig-headed for her, so she got angry. She was looking after 
Master Masunori and Master Yoshinori up to July last, and then 
Murai’s missus brought her two snotty brats along,—-spoiled chil- 
dren they are,—and she gave the children’s toys and cakes all to 
her own kids, so Gammer didn’t get any peace of mind till July 
came and the two young masters were sent off to Awa. She 
was always talking of going back home, but she fretted what 
would become of the office if Murai’s missus had her own way, 
so she kept putting off and putting off, although she wanted to 
come, till last February, when the wife died in labour, you 
know, so there wasn’t nothing to do but to bring her home. Ay; 
ay, she’s strong enough. Well, well, and how’s your ailment, 
Bonbon? Are you well enough to go on studying, or have you 
finished your learning?” 

He spoke with real sincerity. Niimi, as he learned of the 
tragedy overhanging his house, which he had not suspected or 
anticipated, began to tremble, and felt sympathy for Yoshitaro’s 
hard lot. 

“Thank you,” he said. “I’m much better. I’ve been study- 
ing from September last year. Is your wife dead, Yoshi? I 
never heard a word about it. What a pity! But ’m awfully 
glad to hear your grandmother’s so well. She was very kind 
to me.” 

“Yes, but you were ten when you went to your stepmother in 
the country and so you didn’t give much trouble, but the two 
young masters were a sore burden to her. But they soon grew 
up. Master Masunori went to the Middle School this year and 
Master Yoshinori’s going next year, they say. “That youngest 
one was born in the year your mother died,—on January 2nd, 
wasn’t it? Yes, yes, your elder sister was born on January 2nd 
too, and that would make Yoshinori twelve this year, or is it 
thirteen?” 

“His exact age is thirteen, but counting from the years since 
he was born he’s fourteen, I think.” 

“That would be it. How quick time goes. You can get into 
the Middle School when you’re twelve, can’t you? I wonder 
why Master Yoshinori hasn’t gone yet.” 


46 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Oh, we’ve made a mistake. His age by years is thirteen, I 
expect.” 

“Yes, but your father could get him into the Middle School 
even then.” 

Just then Hozumi came in. 

“Ah, Yoshi,” he said, “what a long time it is since we've met. 
Where have you been lately?” 

“JT ain’t been anywhere regular. I’ve been to Shingu the last 
three or four days. How’s the office, Toyokichi, these times?” 

“Awfully bad. There’s plenty of cargo to handle, but Murai’s 
missus is such a nuisance we can’t stand her. Yesterday at table 
she served a great big fish for Murai, and she gave me nothing 
but the bones. I threw ’em in the garden and she’s still grum- 
bling to-day about it.” 

“Give her a bit of your mind.” 

All three laughed at this. ‘The bathhouse was now very 
crowded with the evening bathers. 

“Toyokichi, they say you go to Shinkawa every evening these 
times. If ye go too much, ye’ll get something bad.” 

“Don’t talk nonsense, Yoshi. Do you think I’ve got so much 
money!” 

“Ain’t you and Hosokawa always going there?” 

“Stop your joking. If I go there I go alone.” 


Hozumi was a tall, rather thin young man of twenty-three or 


twenty-four with a long, slightly browned face, a prominent nose 
and light eyebrows. His hair was cut short, but parted a little 
on the left and stuck down with pomade. 

As Hozumi was getting out of the bath, Yoshitaro and Eiichi 
went into the dressing room. 

“Bonbon,” said Yoshitaro, while he was drying himself, “do 
you remember that time down on the beach, when you'd have 
died if I hadn’t helped ye?” 

“Yes, I remember it faintly. I remember my mother hold- 
ing me in the kitchen in Shimagami-cho, and my being examined 
by the doctor.” 

“Ah, if I hadn’t helped ye then, in another five minutes Bon- 
bon would ’ve been dead, eh?” | 

Ves,” 

“Ah, I feel how big you’ve grown when I think of that 


THE HOUSE OF NIIMI 47 


time. You take after your mother, you do,” and Yoshitaro put 
his head on one side meditatively as he looked at Eiichi. 

Eichii was standing in front of the glass parting his hair. 

“What fine hair you’ve got,” said Yoshitaro, and fell to prais- 
ing him. 

After leaving the bathhouse Eiichi wrote a letter to a friend 
in Tokyo and then tried to take 4 nap. He thought he must have 
just fallen asleep when Hozumi came to wake him up, and they 
went down to Hyogo pier. Hozumi was very much surprised 
to see him buy a third-class ticket, but Eiichi maintained silence 
and went on board the steamer. 

As the voyage was very rough that evening almost all the 
third-class passengers were sick. Niimi, however, was not sick. 
He made the acquaintance of a washerman of Tokushima and 
found that he lived next door to his father’s new house. In the 
morning, when he came up on deck, he discovered an apprentice 
of Izeki, the book-seller, who had become a stoker. ‘They had 
neither of them forgotten each other. 

“Master Niimi,” said the youth, “there’s ugly stories going 
round about your father. If you don’t give him a piece o’ your 
mind and get him to be straighter in his dealings, it’s all up 
with him.” 

The youth’s face and eyebrows were grimy, and his eyebrows 
were joined together with a frowning wrinkle. 

“What sort of ugly stories?” Eiichi asked. 

“They say that when the mouth of the river was blocked up 
the dredger was never sent to clear it, and day after day the 
ships were delayed in getting into ‘Tokushima, so that at last 
they began to go to Komatsujima. That was in August last 
year, and they’ve been going there ever since. I can’t tell you 
what the papers have been saying about him. And then the day 
before yesterday . . . you know they’re making a new bridge 
at Tonda. The papers say that the mayor is getting something 
out of that.” 

The young man spoke bluntly. Niimi seemed to feel a cold 
shudder run through his body. | 

“How do you like being a stoker?” he asked. “Is it pleasant?” 

“Tt ain’t a question of being pleasant. I’ve got my mother to 
keep. If I don’t get nine yen a month I can’t do it.” 


48 BEFORE THE DAWN 


‘And how about the girls?” laughed Eiichi. 

“T don’t go with ’em, but the officers and the cabin boys, as 
soon as they get to Osaka, they’re off after "em. It’s beyond 
telling how they goon. ‘There’s lots of the fellows on this boat 
up to their ears in debt.” He added as an explanation, “That’s 
because they work on the sea.” 

The stoker went down into the engine-room and Niimi was 
left alone on the deck to watch the dawn over the sea. 

The wind was strong and huge clouds were racing across the 
sky from southwest to northeast, while the big steamer was 
pitching and rolling so that it seemed to be carried along on 
one big wave. ‘To the east the horizon was distinguishable as 
a faint red line below the clouds, but the colour did not seem to 
grow in brightness however long one looked at it. Rain was 
threatening and the sea was one expanse of grey water,—a 
melancholy, lonely sight. ‘The sun did not shine and the rain 
did not fall; there was only the sound of the waves and of the 
wind as it whistled through the masts and round the bridge 
with a mournful sound. Feverish as he was the wind felt 
piercingly cold. But he thought that if he went down below he 
would be sick, so he continued to walk the deck, repeating in a 
low voice a hymn he knew by heart. But anxiety as to what he 
was to do when he got back to Tokushima disturbed him. ‘The 
thought of what he was to say to his father when he met him 
made him tremble. 

Pep on tenon that I wouldn’t have done better to stay in 
{ ‘Tokyo and continue my studies,” he thought. ‘Then he decided 
that he did not want to stay in Tokyo pursuing endless studies. 
But what was he to do in’an out-of-the-way place in the country? 
| Everything seemed to him to have become worthless. Suppose 
he interested himself in the social improvement of the outcast 
class. He would get a brief-notoriéty in the papers under the 
heading of “Exemplary Work” and after that he would be 
forgotten again. No, it was useless. If he wrote books on 
philosophy the public would not read them, and that again would 
| be heart-breaking. In his pessimism he condemned society as 
heartless. He was twenty-two years of age. What contribution 
\ could he make to society? None; and the ambitions which had 
_filled him turned to bitterness: If his father would continue to 
pay his educational expenses he could make a special study of the- 


THE HOUSE OF NIIMI 49 


ology and go abroad to Germany, which would be delightful. But 
he remembered his father’s feeling towards him. For what reason 
were his stepmother, his father, and that woman called Umé so 
unkind to his little sister? The old proverb that life was like a 
boat floating on the sea did not appeal to him; life is like one 
of those tumbling billows, he thought. If one sprang up reso- 
lutely from the horizon the clouds would still be far away and 
heaven as far. By-and-by the wind might subside and one would 
have to be satisfied with the same old horizon. ‘To carry his 
ideals and principles to his native place was a dream from which 
he would soon awaken... What was left might only be his corpse, 
—nothing left but to weep. His corpse? No, only the ashes. 
Even the ashes would not be left! ‘The fine rain would fall on 
them and they would be carried away in some ditch. He felt 
suffocated. 

But even if he was drifted like clouds and scattered like rain 
he must be resigned,—yes, even if the thunder sounded and the 
rain fell in torrents or if a hurricane arose suddenly and sent him 
down to the bottom of the sea, together with the ship. “I would 
sink in peace,” he thought, and smiled. 

The rain began to fall slightly; the clouds raced near the sur- 
face of the sea. Ejtichi bowed his head and wiped away his 
tears. 


CHAPTER V 


Father and Son 


TER PER OO OO re 


BOY in school uniform came out of the entrance to the 
A house and, seeing Eiichi, cried, “Brother!” and ran back 

into the house. Eiichi had just arrived in a ’rikisha from 
Komatsujima, which the steamer had reached at six o’clock in the 
morning. 

Eiichi had anticipated that his father’s new house would be 
very splendid, but he could not help feeling surprised when he 
saw it. “There was a sparkling, high grey wall round it, with 
panels of scorched cryptomeria wood let in below and on the top 
magnificent tiles, all with the family crest in bas-relief. In front 
there was a railing of camphor-wood with hexagonal posts. The 
gate was especially beautiful, being made of finely grained wood 
with a soft sheen on it. ‘The paving in front of the gate was 
. one large bluish stone, which extended right from the gate to 
the entrance of the house,—a very big stone indeed aT a 
wonderful stone. 

Eiichi got out of the ’rikisha and going up to the entrance 
opened the wicket. He heard the sound of a child’s feet and a 
woman’s pleasant laugh. ‘Then he saw his younger brother 
Masunori—a white-faced youngster with slanting eyebrows and 
thin cheeks. ‘Welcome back, brother,” he cried, and bowed. 

Half hidden behind the screens he saw a woman. She also 
said “Welcome back” and bowed. _Womanlike she was ashamed 
to be seen from the street. 

“How do you do?” he answered casually, and paying the ’rik- 
ishaman he proceeded to take off his boots. 

“Please come in,” said the woman. “What a long time it is 
since I saw you last,” and she showed him in. 

“This woman must be Umé from the Gimpuro tea-house,” 
thought Eiichi. “In that case I saw her for a moment four or 
five years ago when I apetey a my father at the Mizuya 


FATHER AND SON 51 


Hotel.”” Nevertheless he was pleased with Umé’s warm recep- 
tion of him. 

“Thank you,” he said. ‘Is my father at home?” 

“Yes, he’s upstairs praying,” answered the woman. 

In response to the woman’s invitation Eiichi went into the 
back room. 

“‘Won’t you take off your school uniform and put on one of 
your father’s kimonos just for a time till your bag’s unpacked?” 
said Umé, smiling. Her womanly kindness pleased Eiichi and 
he took off his clothes as she suggested. Umé felt his coat. 

“Why, it’s sopping,” she said and laughed. “T’ll get out a 
kimono,” and she opened a chest of drawers. 

Masunori, who had been looking on in silence while Eiichi 
took off his clothes, announced that he must go to school and 
went off after saying good-bye to his brother. 

“Masunori is getting a big boy,” said Eiichi. 

“Yes, isn’t he?” she replied, and she took out a floss silk 
kimono and a crépe girdle. 

While he was putting on the kimono Eiichi asked if his father 
had not come down yet. 

“No, he’s very slow,” said Umé. ‘He prays for an hour 
every morning. Wouldn’t you like to wash your face? It’s 
covered with smuts. I'll get you some water. Yoshi, get your 
young master some water,” and she took Ejichi’s uniform and 
went along the verandah to the lavatory. 

A voice said “Yes” from the kitchen and there was a sound of 
wooden clogs. Then a good-looking young woman of eighteen 
or nineteen came out and, taking the basin from the washstand, 
went to the well to fill it. “There was the sound of a chain 
creaking as she let the bucket down into the well. __ 

Eiichi had not had silk clothes on for years, but he did not feel 
uncomfortable. Umé came tripping along the verandah with a 
towel and a toothbrush and some toothpowder. ‘Then she brought 
him a nickel soapbox. FEiichi brushed his teeth and washed his 
face while the woman waited behind him. 

“What nice hair you’ve got,” she said. “It’s really pretty. 
Many a woman would be glad of hair like that. Do you use 
any pomade? If you do I’ve got some in the lavatory.” 

“No, I don’t use pomade or anything like that,” he said. 
“Tt’s vulgar, you know.” 


52 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Ts it? Is it genteel to use no pomade?” 

She asked the question with so much earnestness that Eiichi 
felt embarrassed. 

“Refined people in America don’t use it,” he said, in defence 
ofinisiatateraen tis.) i 24) i Ge aa oa 

This silenced her. When he had washed his face she gave 
him the towel. 

““Was it very rough last night?” she asked. 

REN ee ?? 

“Would you like a looking-glass? Come into the dressing- 
room.” 

The dressing-room was next to the bathroom and there he 
followed her. Everything was in Japanese style. By the win- 
dow there was a fine toilet-mirror. On the left there was a 
cupboard and in front of that a clothes-stand, on which there 
were some very fine clothes, which he supposed were his father’s. 
Etichi’s wet clothes were also hanging there. 

‘The woman took a comb out of the drawer of the toilet- 
mirror and asked him to use that, and then she brought him some 
pomade. “If you'll use it,” she said. “It’s your father’s.” 

Umé’s easy manners distressed Eiichi and the mention ‘of his 
father gave him a shock. 

While he was combing his hair she withdrew with the excuse 
that she must get breakfast ready, and went busily along the 
verandah towards the kitchen. 

When Eiichi had finished arranging his hair he went out of 
the dressing-room. Umé put her head out of the kitchen. 

*“‘Have you finished?” she asked. 

“Yes,” he answered. ‘I wonder if my father’s down yet,” 
and he went towards the kitchen. 

“It seems as if he had finished. I don’t hear him praying any 
more. But I’ve been so busy that I haven’t had time to welcome 
you formally yet. Let me welcome you in the kitchen,” and she 
knelt down on the floor. Enjichi also knelt down. 

Umeé began to go through the set phrases. “I have not had 
the pleasure of seeing you for a long time. I hope you have been 
well since we last met. J have been very remiss in my conduct 
towards you. Your father has shown great kindness to me. 
Allow me somehow to find favour in your sight.” 

Eiichi, although he felt somewhat embarrassed, responded: 


FATHER AND SON 53 


“It is quite a long time since I last had the pleasure of seeing you. 
I hope you have been prosperous. I hope I may find equal favour 
in your sight,” and he made the usual formal bows. 

“Have you completed your studies?” 

“No, they are not completed yet, but .. .” 

“At any rate I am very pleased to see you back. Four years 
ago I had the pleasure of seeing you at the Mizuya.” Umié said 
this without any exhibition of shame. 

“Yes,” said Eiichi. His overwrought nerves experienced a 
fresh shock. 

“Your father has not seen you for a long time. He was say- 
ing only the other day that he wished to see you.” 

“Really,” replied Eiichi with a passing smile. Such a remark 
might mean anything, he thought. Suddenly he remembered 
Emi. | 

“What has become of Emi?” he asked. 

“She went into the country three days ago,”’ replied Umé. 

Just then Eiichi heard his father coming downstairs. 

Umé rose up with an apology and went to open the door at 
the bottom of the stairs. 

“The young master has returned,” she cried, looking up the 
Stairs. 

His father came down without making any reply. 

Eiichi hung his head and twisted his fingers nervously when 
he saw his father. 

“Father,” he said. 

But his father merely said, “Oh, it’s you, Eiichi, is it??? and 
went into the inner room. 

Eiichi felt that there was something lacking in the greeting 
and hung his head. 

A voice from the inner room said, “Just come in here.” 

Umé had opened the cupboard and was busy setting the table 
for breakfast. 

Eiichi rose and went to the door of the inner room, where 
he sat with bowed head. 

His father, who was dressed in a silk kimono and girdle, was 
sitting in front of the brazier. He was a short man of rather 
dark complexion, with a severe look on his clean-shaven face. 

Umé?’s voice was heard from the kitchen. ‘Master, breakfast 
will soon be ready.” 


54 BEFORE THE DAWN 


His father did not answer, but took a teacup from a small 
ebony shelf by the side of the brazier. 

“Father, it is a long time since I saw you last,” said Eiichi. 
“‘T hope you have been well,” and he made a bow. 

His father was ladling hot water from a big kettle into a 
small teapot. 

“A long time, isn’t it?” answered his father. ‘You look 
very pale. Have you been ill again?” 

“Thank you. ‘There has been no special change.” 

“How about the school? Have you graduated yet?” 

Noe? 

“What's the matter? Have you a holiday then?” 

“No.” 

“Well, what is it then?” 

“There was something occurred to me.” 

“Have you been expelled from the school?” 

**No.”? 

Umé came to the door. “Will you have breakfast now?” she 
asked. 

“Ah, let’s have breakfast. We can talk things over at leisure 
when I come back from the office,” and his father rose. 

“Shall I bring it in here?” Umé asked. 

“No, the kitchen’s all right,” answered his father. 

Eiichi felt irritated with his father for taking things so 
casually, but sat silent with bowed head. On Umé calling him 
from the kitchen, however, he went in and sat at the place set 
for him. 

“I expect Eiichi had a good tossing last night in the rough 
sea,’ said his father jestingly. 

Eiichi only replied “Yes.” 

“What class did you travel?” 

“Third.” 

“Really? ‘That must have been very trying,” said Umé. 
“What sort of a school is that you’ve been going to?” asked 
nis father, 

“It’s a Christian school,” replied Etichi. 

“Have you become a Christian?” 

“No?” 

“Well then, why did you go to a school like that,—against 
my wishes too? Have you left the school?” 


FATHER AND SON 55 


“Yes, that was my intention when I came back. I have re- 
mained there till now because I approve of the principles of the 
school.” 

“Principles? Do you mean Christianity?” 

“Philanthropic principles.” 

“Oh, I suppose you agree with the principles of Socialism 
then?” 

His father was pressing him so hard with his questions that 
Eiichi was unable to appreciate even the special dishes of his 
native province which were set before him. 

He began to answer, but his father pretended not to hear him 
and called for a second helping of rice. Umé summoned the 
servant to come in and serve. She was out in the garden putting 
up Masunori’s lunch, but she came in when called and, kneeling 
down, bowed respectfully. 

“Master, good morning.” 

voel BA su ea 

“Mistress, good morning.” 

“Good morning.” 

“Young master, good morning. I beg to make your acquaint- 
ance and hope for your favour.” 

“Good morning. The pleasure is mine.” 

Meanwhile the master had been waiting to be served, and 
when the servant had finished her salutation she served him. 

“Eiichi,” said his father, while he watched the servant fill 
his bowl, “‘you were saying something about philanthropy. Is it 
idleness and neglect of duty? Empty reasoning and discussion 
ey be all right for students, but anaee are you going to do now 

that you have left ‘school? You talk about Socialism and philan- 
thropy, but what use are they to you? It would be much better 
if you could think how you could earn a little money. Persons 
who act on principles exclusively always end up in poverty. I 
suppose you’ve got no use for the —————,* Eiichi, eh?” 

His father concluded his attack on Eiichi quite calmly, but 
Eiichi thought the time was inopportune for saying anything in 
reply and was silent. 

“T thought at first of not paying your school fees because you 
had disobeyed me in entering a Christian school,” continued his 
father, “but then I took pity on you and sent the money up to 


* The blank is in the original. Apparently the reference is to the 
Emperor. 


56 BEFORE THE DAWN 


last month. I’m rather pressed for ready money just now, so I 
didn’t send this month’s fees. As you wouldn’t study what I 
wanted you to, and had become a Christian and wouldn’t want 
to have anything to do with us, I thought it was useless taking 
any further trouble. ‘That’s why I didn’t send any money this 
month. But, Eiichi, what do you mean to do now that you have 
come back? __ iz don’t t want a Christian or a Socialist i in my house. 
I’m not going to keep you in idleness. If you won’t do what I 
tell you, then you’re no child of mine. If you don’t like living 
in the country it’s better that you shouldn’t stay here.” 

His father pressed home his arguments in a low voice, with 
frequent pauses. Umé sat listening in silence, and Elichi also 
listened in silence. A deadly coldness oppressed his heart, but 
involuntarily he gave a slight laugh. Almost before the laugh 
was out his father was storming at him. 

“Eiichi, do you dare to laugh in the face of your paian you 
insolent boy?” he cried, darting an angry look at E1ichi. 

“‘Master! Please be quiet, master,” said Umé. “It isn’t right 
to say such things to him when he’s only just come back,” and 
she tried to soothe him with a sympathising look on her face. 

“Insolence! After helping him to study in Tokyo I get such 
insolence for my pains. To treat his father in that manner!” 

“Master,” said Umé, “‘breakfast is a little late this morning. 
Wouldn’t it be better to put off the talk till afterwards? You'll 
be late if you don’t finish your breakfast.” 

Eiichi could not help thinking that his father was acting a 
part. He had often seen the part of the stubborn parent played 
at the theatre and had thought that there was no such thing in 
real life. But here he actually was,—the stubborn parent, and 
his own parent, too! It was too funny for words. 

“Because you have got a little learning you think you can 
ridicule your father.” 

Eiichi felt sobered by the remark. 

His father then rose and walked into the back room. 

*“‘Here, get out my clothes,” he said. 

“Master, won’t you have your breakfast?” asked Umé, but 
there was no answer. 

‘Your father’s been very quick-tempered lately, so please don’t 
be angry with him,” said Umé as an apology to Ejichi. 


FATHER AND SON 57 


“Oh, no, how could I be angry with him?” said Eiichi, with- 
out lifting his head. His eyes were filled with tears. 

There was a voice from the back room. “What are you 
chattering about? Why don’t you get out my things at once?” 

“T’m coming,” said Umé, and, agitated, she hastened into the 
dressing-room. 

“Please have some more,” said the servant, who had looked 
on bewildered, and she held out the tray for his cup. 

Her voice was a pleasant one, but Eiichi only murmured, “No, 
thank you,” and going to a corner of the kitchen he opened a 
door and went into the servant’s room, where he threw himself 
down and gave way to tears. 

The rain was still falling heavily. 

Later, after his father had gone to his office, Umé spread a 
bed upstairs and kindly asked him if he would not like to lie 
down and have some sleep after his night’s journey. So Eiichi 
went upstairs and slept. 

He did not wake up till four o’clock in the afternoon. ‘Three 
or four sparrows were chirping noisily when he opened his eyes 
and he drew back the screen a little to look outside. It was now 
raining very little and the sky was becoming clearer. ‘Lhe tiles 
on the roofs of the house were bathed in a yellow light. ‘To the 
northwest, beyond a warehouse, he saw a two-storied house. 
‘There was a persimmon tree beside it and by the open window 
there was a young girl reading a book. She lifted her face for 
a moment and !ooked in his direction. ‘What a beautiful girl!” 
thought Eiichi, but he was overcome with shyness and closed 
the screen again. Then he fell into a muse which was soon dis- 
turbed. by his father’s voice below. 

“Has my father come back so early?” he thought, and 
shivered. 

At the evening meal Eiichi again took the place set for him. 
His father was indulging in his evening glass and as the drink 
took effect he began to dispute with Eiichi, while Umé and 
Masunori listened in silence. Eiichi found it impossible to re- 
main silent. He could not allow his father to say irresponsible 
things to him when he was drunk. 

“How many hundreds and thousands of yen have I spent on 
you,” grumbled his father, ‘and now you're twenty-two or 


58 BEFORE THE DAWN 


twenty-three and what use are you? Don’t you think it’s shame- 
ful? You've got to give up reading books now and go into the 
office at Hyogo or somewhere to act as clerk or apprentice, How 
d’you like that? Can’t you do that? If you can’t I’m sorry for 
you. You're the sort of chap that goes up to Tokyo merely to 
idle away his time and have everything his own way, eh: What 
do you really mean to do? Have you any special idea?” 

“Not at present, except that Id like you to treat Emi better 
and to leave this large house, which only runs you into debt, and 
build a smaller house, and let me resume my studies.” 

Eiichi thought that he would rouse his father as much as he 
could by speaking out boldly. 

“Ugh! Insolence! Whether I borrow money or not is my 
own business. I won’t have any talk from a rascal like you. 
Study what you like. Haven’t you had a fine time? First the 
Middle School, and then four_or_five years in Tokyo. ‘Then, 
when your lungs took bad, I looked after you and sent you to the 
Bonin Islands, but I. don’t get.one word of thanks. Here you 
are after all this time, and the first thing you say on meeting 
your father is that I don’t treat Emi properly and that I don’t 
love you. Ugh! Did you learn to be insolent in the Higher 
School? Is that Christianity? Then I ae Christianity 
teaches children to be unfilial?” 

“Christianity . . . a father who does not love his child and 
the husband who does not love one wife . . . That is what my 
father is like. . . .” Ejichi spoke coldly and firmly. 

“Ugh! You! ... You are not my child. I don’t want a 
rascal like you in my house. Tm surprised how you can have 
forgotten all my past kindness. Am I so hateful to you?” 

His father showed no sign of yielding and Eiichi began again. 

““How many women has my father? . . . Truly my mother 
must be weeping in the grave. And then, with all the remarks 
being published in the papers, to go calmly to the ‘Town Hall 
every day.” Eiichi spoke very earnestly. 

“Tnsolent! What are you prating about?” and his father 
jumped up and went over to Eiichi. 

“You can say all sorts of insolent things if I let you, can’t 
you?” he said. “Say it again.” 

His father was trembling and choking with anger. 


FATHER AND SON 5a 


“You are aceused of taking bribes and yet you calmly con- 
tinue to go to the Town Hall,” replied Eiichi unmoved. 

Almost before Eiichi had finished speaking his father had 
struck him on the face with his hand. The cup he had in his 
hand rolled on the table. Then his father kicked him and he 
fell over on his side. Seizing the fallen Eiichi by the collar 
of his kimono his father dragged him towards the house door. 

Masunori and the maid and the manservant Kichisaburo 
looked on in silence, but Umé got up. 

“Please don’t do that, master,” she said. “You might injure 
him and then there would be trouble.” She was interfering 
merely for form’s sake. 

Eiichi made not the least resistance. His father threw open 
the door. 

*“Get out!” he said, and he kicked Eiichi out. 

Then he shut the door with a bang and burst into tears. 

Eiichi, outside the door, wept bitterly, but there was a strained 
smile on his face. Soon a thought came into his head. He went 
out through the wicket in the outer door round to the back and 
got into the dressing-room, where he put on his school uniform. 
Then he went back to the front entrance and put on his shabby 
boots, finally leaving the house without an umbrella. 

Outside it was dark. 


CHAPTER VI 


His Stepmother’s Home 


MM MK MM MMM MO 


N Y HERE was he going? He went west along the main 
street of ‘Tokushima, turning to the left by the corner 
of the Town Hall, and across ‘Tokushima Bridge. 
He took rather a roundabout way to Itano as he wanted to buy 
an umbrella in Tori-machi. The lamp at the police station was 
burning dimly. Miyai, the haberdasher, was just the same old 
Miyai. Entichi peered in to see the time and there was the pro- 
prietor sitting by the brazier nodding. Eiichi thought he seemed 
to have grown a little bald. ‘Tori-machi was just the same. 
Only Iseki, the bookseller, had moved from Omichi and had 
gone into a fine big shop. ‘There also the master was dozing in 
the shop. Farther along the street had changed, however. The 
post office was at Sengoku’s, and there was a fine new Christian 
church. He went into an umbrella shop kept by a dumb man 
and bought a cheap umbrella. Then he hurried on his way. It 
was raining a little now. 

Farther along he came to a shrine and it reminded him of 
Bunyan, the beggar,—a very honest, lame beggar, who would 
take a copper instead of a nickel coin if he were offered both. 
“Please gi? me a penny, sir! Please gi? me a penny, mum!” he 
would cry cheerfully, as he walked along on his round, always 
exactly to time, and he got the money. It was said that he was 
rich, with savings of over a hundred yen. A man of about 
fifty, he used to sleep at the shrine as if he were the keeper of 
it. Ejtichi wondered if Bunyan was still alive. 

Thinking of Bunyan reminded Eiichi of Chiyo, another 
beggar from Omichi,—the idiot Chiyo, who was said to have 
borne a child to Shiokawa, a very proud and haughty beggar,— 
Chiyo, who went about from morning to night with a leer in 
her left eye and a strange laugh, calling after every one she met, 

60 


HIS STEPMOTHER’S HOME 61 


in a loud voice, “I don’t like ’ee. Ye’re funny.” Sometimes 
she went about with her nose painted black; sometimes her face 
was plastered over with powder. Her kimono with its long 
sleeves was all torn, and she carried a filthy bag. Chiyo, who 
was always going about begging while she rubbed her close- 
cropped head! Eiichi recalled seeing her seven or eight years 
before one morning when he was taking a walk to Seimi, laugh- 
ing and sweeping the floor of the gallery where the ex voto offer- 
ings were displayed. 

Then there was “Sunday,” another beggar. He also was an 
idiot, who went about with a box hanging round his neck on 
which was written “Sunday.” But even if it was not Sunday, 
only Friday or Saturday, he still went out begging,—a tall 
beggar, apparently about forty years of age. 

Shiokawa, to whom Chiyo was said to have borne a child, had 
died some years ago, he had heard, but the other three beggars 
were so celebrated in Tokushima that they were beloved both by 
the Mayor and all the citizens. ‘Those three enjoyed their lives, 
he thought, free from all ambitions. Perhaps they were even 
then asleep dreaming innocent dreams. 

With such thoughts he passed along. Ryuseido, the book- 
seller, he noticed, was gone; there was a “‘to let” notice pasted 
up; but Konishi’s, the chemist and confectioner’s, was still there 
as of old. The four-storied eating-house of Ichikawa had be- 
come three-storied. ‘The usually lively Shinmachi Bridge was 
now deserted. The rain was getting into his left shoe. 

There were no lights at the Kogawa Hospital. From Takimi 
Bridge he could see seven or eight lights on Taki Hill. The 
prison looked as big as ever. Passing over Maekawa Bridge he 
heard a rumbling sound, like that accompanying a trembling of 
the ground, and knew it was the cotton mill. Apparently even 
on rainy nights the machines were kept going. The Maekawa 
police station was in the same place. ‘Then he came to the 
Hachiman shrine at Kamisuketo. Here he remembered, ten 
years before, seeing Suwanomori, the best wrestler in the prov- 
ince, at the village wrestling sports. His boot was beginning to 
get worse and worse. He thought of getting a pair of clogs, but 
decided to go on. 

It was eight o’clock when he got to the Furukawa ferry. The 
river was here very wide and he had to pass over a long bridge, 


62 BEFORE THE DAWN 


where he felt very lonely and as if borne along by the wind. 
But the thought that he would be surely given a warm welcome 
in the country gave him a feeling of pleasure. His quarrel with 
his father seemed like a dream. When he got to the great pine- 
tree at Tai-no-hama he met a jinrikisha. Up to then he had met 
nobody. ‘There were about five miles still to go and his tired 
legs continued to move. He passed through the cattle-pasture and 
came to Nakamura. ‘Then there was a long field-path. He 
thought that if a robber stopped him he would hand over every- 
thing and then run naked all the way to Umazume. If he were 
killed that would be the end of him, that was all. So his dreamy 
meditations ran. 

At last the fields were passed and he came to Kitamura. Then 
he descended the hill of Kitashitara and came to the place com- 
monly called Shinden, on the opposite side of the river to his own 
village of Koden, both being in Higashi Umazumé, Horiemura, 
Itano district. 

He passed the grove surrounding the shrine of the tutelary 
deity and remembered when he was a boy how he used to beat 
the drum at the festival while the young men did the lion dance. 
This again reminded him that at the children’s festival he had 
himself one year been the leader. He remembered that he and a 
lot of other children slept at the shrine and had great fun. 

He passed over Ushiyajima Bridge. He remembered that one 
year, when he had just begun to go to the Middle School, a blue- 
jacket from Kuré and two girls who were in love with him 
had committed suicide together on this very spot because they had 
run through all their money. The river ran peacefully and the 
rain fell softly. From side to side the water stretched, a beau- 
tiful sight; and in the gloom brooding over the river he thought 
the ghosts of the three might appear. An uncanny feeling seized 
him. 

Then he remembered that at the March festival the children 
all used to come to this river to play with boats,—how they used 
to get on a barge belonging to Yamaju and go out into the river 
to eat their dinners. He thought of his stepmother and of his 
sister’s dolls’-festival. All the little girls in the neighbourhood 
used to come and see the dolls,—T suruko Tamiya also,—a pretty 
little bright-eyed girl, who made him feel shy when he spoke to 
her. “I wonder if she’s married by now,” he thought. He had 


HIS STEPMOTHER’S HOME 63 


never heard what had become of her since he left for Tokyo. 
Then, as his thoughts wandered from one subject to another, 
he came to the place where used to stand his old school, which 
he had attended for two years. Only four years before, when 
he had returned for a short holiday in the summer, the school 
was still standing. Now even the foundations had disappeared; 
all that was left was a stone wall. Where had the school been 
moved to? He thought with shame how proud he had been at the 
school of having been brought up in Kobé and how insolently he 
had behaved. Before he had passed the entrance examination to 
the Middle School he had taken part in a farewell entertainment 
to the graduates. He had subscribed thirty-five sen and they had 
gone to the Hamaguchi Inn and drunk saké * in a room upstairs. 
There were thirty graduates and five teachers, and they had all 
got drunk. Even the school servant, drinking by himself in a 
corner, had got drunk. When Eiichi remembered the servant a 
shudder ran through him. He was a man fond of drink, with a 
pale face and bloodshot eyes and rather long, shaggy hair, who 
was rather silent in his cups. He had a daughter who was eight 
years old, and in the summer holidays of the second year that 
Eiichi was attending the school, she suddenly died. All he knew 
at the time of the illness from which she died was that it began 
with the syllable “pleu,” and a rumour was started that Eiichi 
had thrust her in the side with an umbrella and broken her third 
rib, from which she had died. When the rumour came to Elichi’s 
ears he was thunderstruck, as he was not concerned in the matter 
at all, and for two days and nights he lay sobbing out his heart, 
under the mosquito-curtain in the back room. F inally he = 
five yen that he had saved and gave it to the girl’s parents as a| 
consolatium. He knew that he used to be so full of mischief \ 
that such rumours were easily started, but now the false impres- 
sion made him indignant, because he also knew that even in his | 


boyhood he had alwaysebeen kind to others. He knew now i 


the girl, while working one of the irrigation wheels, had fallen 
and that this had resulted in pleurisy. Nothing was more painful 
than to be misconceived_by others, | ies 

He came to the gate of Hara’s, the soy brewer. Here he re- 
membered that Tsuné, the round-eyed son of the cooper, had 
once asked him: “Didn’t you kill the daughter of the school 


* An intoxicant brewed from rice. 


64 BEFORE THE DAWN 


servant?” He was so surprised that he had run away. ‘That was 
ten years ago, but he felt uneasy in thinking that the impression 
might still prevail in the village. 

At the Kawaguchi common lodging-house, which was sur- 
rounded by a thicket, there used to be a tall, fat, white girl of 
about twenty. Where was she now, he wondered. 

Going along the bank by the side of the sakaki trees he re- 
membered that a cousin of his had once married a man in this 
place, but could not get on with the man’s mother and so had 
got a divorce. “There was the sickle still stuck in the yew tree 
as it used to be. “Then he came to the hut of anekichi, the 
cooper, by the side of the river. His son, Tsunekichi, was clerk 
in Niimi’s house at Umazumé. ‘The next house was the hut of 
a beggar named Suké. A net was spread over the roof and he 
remembered that this had particularly attracted his attention when 
he was a little boy. Suké was the night-watchman at his house, 
and on the first and fifteenth of every month he used to come in 
at the back door and wait in front of the sink in the kitchen to 
receive the rice which he earned as night-watchman. ‘There was 
a dim light on the bank of the river at Tamiya,—perhaps from 
the ferryman’s house. He remembered that the ferryman had a 
sore-eyed youngster named Tatsu. As a rich man’s son Etichi 
had had many protégés and ‘Tatsu was the first of them. At the 
New Year, when the children assembled for games, Tatsu 
always enlisted himself on Eiichi’s side. Again, when swimming 
or playing hide-and-seek, Tatsu always followed him about. 
Swimming reminded him that he and Tsuruko Tamiya’s elder 
brother used to compete in diving. ‘“Tokiyuki must have been 
fifteen or sixteen then, but they were great friends. Eiichi used 
to lend him magazines and be given big summer oranges in 
return. 

Leaving Ushiyajima, Eiichi was at last in his own village 
district. Inside a thicket, close by the river, there was a place 
where they applied moxa to horses. From here for some dis- 
tance there were no houses at all. On both sides, between the 
thickets, a large plain could be seen extending to the north. At 
the foot of Mount Kita, which was about two miles off, there 
was a township called Otani, on the outskirts of which was the 
place where the Emperor Tsuchimikado had been cremated. The 
lights visible along the mountain-pass here and there made him 


HIS STEPMOTHER’S HOME 65 


feel lonely. He remembered how they used to warm themselves 
in the sun on the river bank when they were going to school in 
the winter. 

Now he had arrived at the first hut of Higashi Umazumé, 
which was Masa’s, the sawyer. Masa lived in this hut with a 
widow who had a child; Eiichi thought his name was Chobei. 
He was a rough, dirty boy, who took a daily delight in fighting. 
A little past this hut was the house of Genzaburo Ichibashi, who 
used to transact the indigo business of the firm of Niimi. Genza- 
buro had died while visiting the office of the firm at Kanazawa. 
Behind the house once stood the house of Kumazo Ichibashi, who 
had migrated to the Hokkaido while Eiichi was attending the 
Middle School. All that were left were the remains of the gate- 
posts and the black outline of a weather-beaten persimmon tree. 

Next to Genzaburo’s house was what was called the Higashi- 
no-Shintaku, which was said to have once been a large house and 
grounds. Now, inside the hedge, there was rather a small house. 
In front there was a thicket, and below the thicket there was a 
deep pool in the river, where an old man called “Nishira” used to 
catch fish. Elichi was at last drawing near to his own house. 
Torakichi’s house was at the bottom of the bank there, and next 
door was Masakichi’s. Passing by the side of the water-gate he 
came out by Gonsuké’s house,—Gonsuké, whose wife was said 
to be possessed by a badger. From there he could see the gate of 
his own house. Next door to Masakichi there used to live a man 
called Hei Bando, a tobacco-cutter. He wondered what he was 
doing now. Formerly there used to be a very large house there, 
belonging to Yamaju, a large landowner whom everybody in the 
neighbourhood knew. Now there was only left the main build- 
ing and the garden had been turned into vegetable fields. As the 
children used to sing, 


Tamiya has gold, 
Yamaju has land, 
But Kanai at the back there 
Has daughters to command. 


The Kanai of the song was the Niimi family, which was said to 
be noted for its beautiful girls. 
Coming round from behind Nobu Saito’s house he was sur- 


66 BEFORE THE DAWN 


prised to find no trace of Tamiya’s house. Only at the north- 
west corner there was a big red pine, beaten by the rain and 
looking very lonely. Eiichi thought it very strange. “If there 
is no Tamiya in Higashi Umazumé, then there will be only 
marsh and moor and the cricket’s cry.””. So ran the legend which 
had glorified the Tamiyas, and now there was not a trace of the 
house left. The road here turned to the right, round the ‘Tamiya 
burial ground, which was surrounded by a yew hedge with a big 
nettle-tree in the middle, and then ran up to Niimi’s gate. 

The main stock of the Niimis, even in the time of the Tamiyas, 
had the biggest house and grounds in Higashi Umazumé, Mori- 
hei, Eiichi’s grandfather, being Headman of eighteen villages. 
Being an enterprising man of strong character he had constructed 
two outhouses for fermenting indigo, one 150 feet by 30 feet, 
and the other, to the west, 75 feet by 25 feet. The bigger one 
-was called the eastern outhouse and the smaller one the western 
outhouse. ‘There was still another one in front of the western 
.outhouse,—a high, two-storied building. ‘There was a big gate- 
hhouse to the east of it. 

It was now half-past nine. Eiichi stood quietly under the 
eaves of the gatehouse, all sorts of feelings rising in his mind. 
He knocked at the gate and listened to see if he could hear any 
movement in the house, but could only hear a horse stamping in 
the western outhouse. He waited a little time and then knocked 
again, when a door in the house was opened and he heard a 
woman’s voice ask, ‘“Who is there?” 

It was certainly Emi’s voice. Then he could hear another 
woman’s voice and the two whispering together. 

“Tt’s me,” answered Eiichi in a low voice. 

“Who can it be at this time?” he heard Emi say, and then he 
heard the other girl’s voice mingling with hers. ‘Then at last he 
heard them walking along under the eaves of the outhouse, their 
clogs resounding as they walked. While Eiichi was wondering 
where the men were the side-door was opened. Again he heard 
a horse neighing and stamping with his hoofs in the outhouse. 

“Ts it brother, I wonder?” said Emi. ‘What has happened?” 

The other young girl had hidden herself behind Emi. © 

“Aren’t the clerks in?” asked Eiichi, going in. 

““One’s away because his wife is expecting a child and the 
other has gone on a pilgrimage and hasn’t come back yet. I 


HIS STEPMOTHER’S HOME 67 


was afraid, so I got Shidzu to come with me to open the door. 
It was good of you to come in all this rain. Really I wondered 
who it could be.” 

“T thought you were still at Tokushima, Emi,” said Eiichi, 
looking at the other girl. ‘So you are back here already?” 

“Master,” said the other girl, “I have not had the pleasure of 
seeing you before. I am the younger sister of Tsunekichi,” and 
she bowed. 

“This is Shidzu, the younger sister of ‘Tsunekichi,” said Emi, 
introducing her. 

Comparing her with his sister Eiichi found the servant by far 

the more beautiful. Although he could not see her well by the 
light of the small lantern she was carrying, he noted the clear 
outline of her face. She had finely arched eyebrows, and al- 
though her eyelids were not creased in the way that beauty de- 
mands, she had a very pleasant expression. Her complexion also 
was clear, and altogether she was of a prettiness that is rarely 
found in the country districts. Compared with the rusty-haired, 
dark-skinned Emi, who was a fat, strong girl, there was the 
difference between snow and charcoal. 
“~ Exichi made the proper salutations in return, but she was too 
beautiful for him to look at without feeling shy. ‘The three then 
went along under the eaves to the house, Emi and Shidzu chat- 
tering. 

“TI really wondered who it could be.” 

“Tt gave me quite a turn. Suppose it’s a robber, I thought.” 

*“How’s mother?” asked Eiichi. 

“She has a touch of rheumatism, they say.” 

“Since when?” 

“About ten days ago. . . . They sent a messenger to Toku- 
shima to call me and I came at once.” 

They hopped from under the eaves of the outhouse to the 
shelter of the eaves of the house, and then went up five or six 
stone steps to the entrance. (Houses in that district are all raised 
above the ground because the river Yoshino is generally in flood 
two_or three times in August or September. ) 

At the entrance Eiichi asked where his stepmother was and 
was told she was in the back room, where he accordingly went. 

His stepmother sat up when she heard that Eiichi had returned, 
and after they had exchanged the usual remarks about the weather 


68 BEFORE THE DAWN 


and his stepmother had inquired the reason of Eiichi’s return, the 
talk drifted to the subject of the Tamiyas. His stepmother, 
fingering her chin, and occasionally putting back a stray hair, 
told the story. 

“Really the world is very unfeeling. It has no pity whatever 
for reneiehe has eee soya may have been their 
formersposition. While they were rich the Tamiyas were every- 
body. Everybody respected them. Now they are greatly to be 
pitied.” 
he stepmother had a small, white face, with narrow eyes 
and ugly eyelids. ‘The lantern burned dimly. 

“In the autumn of the year you came back, some time about 
the beginning of October, one morning five or six detectives were 
going about in front of Tamiya’s house, here and there, and 
down by the dyke there was a police-inspector and two or three 
policemen. No sooner had they entered the house than Mr. 
Makoto was brought out and was taken across the ferry to 
Tokushima and put in prison. It gave me quite a turn. Mr. 
Makoto was Headman, you know, and whether it was losses in 
timber or losses in silk, or spending money on the girl at the 
eating-house next to the Village Office across the street, I don’t 
know, but at any rate it was said that he had taken two or three 
thousand yen of the money of the Village Office. And then, 
before the case came into court, he hanged himself in his cell. 
It was very, very sad. His wife, when she heard of it, went out 
of her mind and jumped into the river and drowned herself. 
Really, I felt so sorry for her and it was so sad that I cried. 
Then, after the wife had drowned herself, they seized. and 
pulled down the house, so.there was nowhere for the grand- 
parents and Tsuruko and Masa to go. From the New Year up 
to the Bon festival they lived here in the back rooms. ‘They used 
the dressing-room as a kitchen and these two rooms to live in. 
However, in April T’suruko’s uncle or some one in Tokyo was 
appointed a teacher in the Tokushima Normal School, and 
‘T’suruko went to his house to live. I think she graduated at the 
Girls’ High School this year and is living in a house just back of 
ours in the city,” and she asked Emi, who was sitting by her, 
where the house of ‘Tamiya’s relatives was. 

“You can see the upper story from our upper story at the north- 
west corner,” said Emi, watching her brother’s face. 


HIS STEPMOTHER’S HOME 69 


“Then, at the end of the Bon festival, the grandmother re- 
turned to her village, taking Masa with her. ‘Tokiyuki, the eldest 
son, has gone to his relatives in Tokyo, I believe. Ah, how 
things change! ‘Tamiya’s house has gone and for a time I really 
felt quite lonely. But, Eiichi, Tamiya will not be the only one. 
Some day maybe we'll go down like Tamiya. I’m really greatly 
concerned about your father. Can’t you speak to him a little?” 

Eiichi fancied from what Emi had said that the beautiful girl 
he had seen from upstairs that afternoon must have been Tsuruko. 
If it was Tsuruko she had become very beautiful. 

Eiichi did not say anything about his quarrel with his father, 
nor did he say anything to indicate his own misgivings. 

“Has the second clerk gone on a pilgrimage?” he asked. 

“Yes,” said his stepmother. “Every year there’s one goes from 
each village and this year the lot fell on us. As the first clerk’s 
wife was expecting a child I couldn’t send him, so I had to send 
the second clerk. It’s nearly twenty-eight days since he started.” 

Eiichi had a vision of the manner in which the leisurely country 
folk go about calling on the names of their gods and being 
assisted on their way. 

Through the falling rain there came the sound of the night- 
watchman. 

“Suké’s still employed as night-watchman, is he?” he asked. 

“Yes, he’s still here,”? was the answer. 

“T’m very glad that your illness is not serious,” said Eiichi. 

**Thank you,” she said. “It’s only my right leg that I can’t 
move freely. It’s nothing to trouble about. I think it will soon 
be better.” 

The watchman had now come from the outhouse round to the 
back of the house, and heard them talking. 

‘The office door is not shut yet, miss,” he called, showing how 
careful he was. 

“There, Emi, he says the office door is not shut again.” 

“Oh, I forgot. i must have left it open when I was peeping 
out to see who we; there,” and Emi rose. 

“Go and shut it at once,” her stepmother commanded, 

Emi ran along the verandah to the front. 

“That child’s so stupid I don’t know what to do with her,” 
complained her stepmother. 

The rain was still falling heavily. 


CHAPTER VII 


Brother and Sister 


MoM MM OO HO 


oy OW brightly the sun’s shining!” said Eiichi. He was 

H lying on his back on the verandah in front of the 

house. 

It was half-past one in the afternoon. ‘The rain of the 
previous day had passed away, the only trace of it being the still 
damp condition of the garden. ‘To-day, from early morning, 
the sparkling sun had been shining and spring appeared to have 
returned at a bound. 

‘The sun was too glaring for Eiichi to look at long, so he 
curled up his fingers and made a little hole through which he 
looked. | 

“What beautiful rays, like a rainbow!” Eiichi murmured to | 
himself, as his thoughts began to wander. ‘‘How beautiful the | 
sun’s rays are! And they have come ninety-three millions of 
miles! And these rays outside the air are purple, they say. 
What a beautiful world it must be! How mysterious light is!” 
he thought, and he pondered over many fancies. 

But Eiichi, who was hardly able to bear the gloomy thoughts 
of the day before, still felt melancholy, even though the sun was 
shining. He even uttered a kind of imprecation. 

He got up, but he could only sit and stare vacantly at the 
stepping-stones in the garden. ‘Then suddenly a shudder of recol- 
lection went through him and he buried his face in his hands. 

“‘Ah, hopeless, hopeless!” he cried. ‘God must have com- 

( mitted suicide.” With these wild words he descended into the 
garden. | 

At the southeast corner there was an ilex tree—rather a big 
one. All its green leaves were sparkling in the sun and some- 
times they rustled and danced. ‘To the left of it was a white 


camellia, but its leaves had fallen. By the side of it was a pine 
70 


' 
7 


BROTHER AND SISTER 7h 


and it also had withered. He remembered that tree well, be-- 
cause he had himself planted it in front of the bathroom. ‘There 
were some other trees planted in front of a storehouse for cloth- 
ing by the side of the bathroom and some more in the corner. 
Indeed, although the garden was not very big it was full of 
plants and trees. 

Eiichi found some clogs and wandered here and there along 
the stone walks, sunk in thought. He had put on a woman’s 
kimono, made of some hand-woven material, and his younger 
brother’s girdle. His face was pale and his eyes glittered. 
Eiichi?s musing generally took a fanciful turn. 

Why am I walking here?” he asked himself. “It is because 

am alive. Why am I alive? I am alive because I am alive. 
No, it is because I don’t want to die that I am alive. No, it’s 
not that either. I want to commit suicide, but I don’t want to 
go out into the utter darkness. ‘That is why I go on living. I 
go on living, in fact, like one who has a rope tied round his 
neck by which he is being dragged along. I know that there is 
10 value in life, but somehow there is a hand stronger than death 
which holds me by the throat and I go on living... . Life 
seems to me terrible. Life! And nowadays I have no appetite, 
and at every meal there is nothing but barley to eat,—stepmother 
1s SO sparing, even to stinginess. “That’s why I don’t like the 
country. I hate it. Jt’s not the place for a genius like me to 
live in. ‘Town life seems better, though when you come to try 
it the poetry disappears. But to bury myself in the country is 
unendurable. But what should I preach in the city? Socialism? 
‘That seems about all I can do. Yet somehow I’m rather tired 
of Socialism. Socialism seems like a beggar’s philosophy. Yet 
it’s better than nationalism. “As for philosophy, it only seems 
like a toy of the Tearned, and therefore I don’t want to get 
~~ fame that way. Yes, but to reconcile myself to the country and 
to settle down and work there till I die,—that’s not amusing. 
Then it’s or Socialism. But preaching in the city 
means of a certainty the prison dress. How strange! ‘The world 
still has wars and Japan still has warships. How would it be 
to go to the city and flout this world of arms, taking the risk 
of the prison cell? . . . But I don’t want to imitate Tolstoy or 
Chomei, the hermit. . . . Well then, the village school and the 
life of a teacher. But perhaps the old servant is there still, and 


72 BEFORE THE DAWN 


every time I saw his face I should tremble. . . . But how am I © 
to earn my living in town?” 

“Thus his thoughts ran as he stood on one of the stones in the 
garden, gazing fixedly at his own shadow. The brighter the 
sun shone the clearer his shadow grew. But how pitiful that 
shadow looked! 

The door of the room opened and Emi put her head out. 

“Emi, when did that pine tree wither?” he asked. 

“That one?” and Emi looked at the pine tree. 

“Yes,” said Eiichi, looking at it. | 

“Oh, that! Stepmother moved it and then it withered, you 
Beet: 

“But I planted it in front of the bathroom, didn’t I?” he 
asked discontentedly. 

“She said we should all grow poor if a pine tree was planted 
to the southeast of the house, so in January this year she moved 
it,” 

Eiichi sat down on the edge of the verandah. 

“I wonder if Tsunekichi has returned,” he said. “It’s two 
o'clock, isn’t it?” 

“Yes, it must be past two.” 

“Ts dinner always so late as this?” 

““Yes, always about this time. Usually people have it at half- 
past one, but that’s ’cause they have five meals a day.” 

Ma SEL 

“Brother, what sort of a place is Tokyo?” 

“Oh, it’s not much of a place.” 

“But I suppose it’s larger and grander than Tokushima,— 
even than Kobé?” 

“Tokushima! —Emi, how many months were you in Toku- 
shima?”’ 

“I was there less than a month and a half.” 

“Why did you go to Tokushima?” 

“Why? Ican’t tell you.” 

“You can tell your own brother, can’t you?” 

“Well, stepmother. . . . I really can’t tell you. There was 
some trouble.” 

Emi hung her head and Eiichi saw that there were some ashes 
on her hair. Probably they came from the big stove, which 
was stoked with straw. 


BROTHER AND SISTER 73 


“Emi, there ought to be nothing you can’t tell me. Tell your 
brother, do.” 

“Stepmother scolded me and so I ran away to Tokushima.” 

“Why?” 

“Cause she’s always hitting and beating me.” Emi mumbled 
this with the end of her sleeve in her mouth. 

““Stepmother is unreasonable, isn’t she?” said E1ichi. 

“You know I’m bad at sewing and she wants to know why I 
can’t do it, and says if I’m so clumsy she’ll send me down to 
the kitchen and have the servant up to do the sewing.” 

Emi hid her hands, which were chapped with kitchen work, 
and Eiichi’s eyes filled with tears. 

“What did you do at Tokushima?” he asked. 

““Umeé treated me as a servant.” 

“What, in our father’s house?” and Eiichi turned away his 
face to hide his tears. 

“Yes, she treated me very badly. I... I don’t want to talk 
about it.” Her voice choked. 

“Why did you waste your time there?” 

“But I didn’t have no other place to go to.” 

*“‘Wasn’t there any servant in the house?” 

“Yes, there was, but she left suddenly two days after I got 
there, and then there was another one came and she went away 
too. ‘The one they’ve got now came three days before I left. 
Umé’s such a scold.” 

“Emi, how old do you think Umé is? She makes herself look 
young, but...” 

“She? She’s thirty-two. I know ’cause she said next year’s 
her unlucky year and she’s anxious about it. Mother, you know, 
died when she was thirty-three, in her unlucky year. I wish she 
was alive,—or my sister, at least. ‘There isn’t a day passes that 
I don’t wish mother was here. If she was alive I shouldn’t be 
so unhappy . . . I could have gone to school a little more.” She 
spoke regretfully. 

Eiichi had never been very fond of his younger sister. She 
was not beautiful as her elder sister had been and she was not 
clever. Yet now the pity he felt for her made her very dear to 
him. She met her troubles with her stepmother with a woman’s 
heart and he could not help admiring her. 

“Emi,” he said, “you mustn’t let yourself get downhearted. 


74 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Your brother’s not going to idle away his time always. Thinking ~ 
about mother doesn’t do any good. Try to be more cheerful.” 

“Yes, but I’m tired to death of it all. I never go to sleep 
at nights without a cry for mother. I look at mother’s portrait 
and cry and cry and wish that if we weren’t together she might 
be living somewhere. And then I think if I died too I might 
meet her. Besides, from spring last year I haven’t been very well 
and I can’t help feeling low. I got Yoshi, the servant, to get 
me some patent medicine secretly, and I don’t know how many 
packets I took, but it didn’t do me any good. I wanted to see 
a doctor, but I thought if I said anything they would scold me, 
and I hadn’t got any money. So all June, July and August— 
three months—I was in bed, but there was no one to nurse me 
and stepmother said, ‘Emi’s sickness hasn’t got a name. It’s the 
crying sickness, that’s all. If she’d pull herself together she’d 
soon get better. If I was her I wouldn’t spend all my time in 
bed.’ That’s the nasty way she was talking from morning till 
night. I really thought I was going to die, but then I thought 
it wouldn’t be right to leave you and father and so I sold my 
mother’s keepsakes—the gold bar for her hair and the silk girdle, 
to get medicine so as to get better.” 

She told him this with many tears, and Eiichi’s tears mingled 
with hers. 

“Did father give you nothing at Tokushima?” Eiichi asked. 

‘When I came away Umé gave me an old neckerchief, that 
was all.” 

“But, Emi, where did you get that five yen from that you 
sent me??? 

“T had that before from some dresses I sold.” 

“Dresses? How did you sell them?” 

“You know Sei at Ushiyajima,—the old woman who sells 
dried fish. She helped me to sell them.” 

Some fowls were passing across the garden. 

“Very cheap, I expect.” 

“Tt couldn’t be helped. It was a matter of life or death.” 
Emi dried her eyes with her sleeve. 

“Did you sell any more of mother’s keepsakes?” Eiichi asked. 
He did not like the idea of parting with the things left by his 
mother. 


“Yes, I sold a lot of them.” 


BROTHER AND SISTER 75 


Emi’s sobs had now subsided and she was able to lift her face 
and meet her brother’s gaze. She was very like her mother, espe- 
cially her eyebrows and the shape of her nose and mouth. The 
resemblance to her mother made her dearer and more lovable. 
From her large eyes, with their black pupils, shone a warm 
womanly light. 

“Brother, I think of you as my mother. Please be kind to 
me. I have only you to help me.” 

Emi hung her head again. LEiichi had been so long separated 
from his sister that he had no idea that she had been regarding 
him as her support, and he felt what a strange relationship that 
of brother and sister was. At a loss how to reply he remained 
silent. 

“Brother!” 

Sey og’? * 

“Did father send you your school fees?” 

“Yes, I received some.” 

“Were you put to any trouble? Father’s built that grand 
house, you know, and he was in debt before. People often call 
for their money back, but father doesn’t seem to care. I heard 
him say when he was talking about something that he was not 
going to send you your school fees any more. It gave me quite a 
turn. He gives Umé a hundred or two hundred yen at a time 
for her clothes and things, and yet he can’t send you fifteen or 
twenty yen a month.” 

“Well, it’s not worth talking about,” said Eiichi, and he pre- 
tended to dismiss it as a matter of no importance. 

“But he was angry ’cause you were going to a Christian 
school.” 

“Yes, I suppose so. But I’m too tired to be angry or sorry 
about anything,” and Eiichi frowned. 

Emi thought it strange, but was silent for a time. 

“Brother,” she began again, “have you quite got rid of your 
sickness? You look very pale.” 

“Tf I live comfortably and get good food my lungs will get 
well by themselves. But I’m not rich enough to take care of 
myself. Consumption and dyspepsia are rich men’s diseases.” 
Eiichi tried to laugh, and Emi also laughed and looked up at 
the sun. 

“What beautiful weather it is to-day,” she said. 


76 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Just then there was a sound of clogs at the gate and a man of 
about fifty came in. 

“Oh, Hikokichi’s come again,” said Emi. “He’s the Tenri 
preacher come because mother’s sick. [Tm not fit to be seen so 
Ill go in,” and she went in and shut the screen. “My hair’s so 
disorderly,’ she added from behind the screen, and Eiichi heard 
her receding footsteps. 

Hikokichi came to the gate of the front garden. 

“T was just wondering who it was,” he said, “and it’s the 
young master. I have not had the honour of seeing you for a 
long time. Please excuse my remissness since last we met. 
Bunzo has for a long time received many kindnesses from your 
house. It must be five or six years since I last had the honour 
of seeing you. I should hardly have known you, you have 
grown so. Really, if I had had the pleasure of meeting you in 
the street I should not have known you. I had the honour to hear 
that you had not been very well. May I ask how you are feel- 
ing?” 

He bowed and clasped his hands together and put his head 
from side to side while he composedly uttered his formal com- 
pliments. 

“The good lady of the house has been suffering from rheuma- 
tism and her health has not been good; but there is nothing to 
give any special cause for anxiety,” he added kindly. 

Tenri believers somehow seem different from other people. 
Ejichi returned the usual salutations. 

“To-day, sir, the weather is exceedingly fine—really,” and 
Hikokichi, looking from the camellia tree to the sun, sought 
for his tobacco pouch. 

“Yes, it has certainly cleared up beautifully,” said Eiichi. 
“Please sit down here.” 

“Thank you,” answered Hikokichi, “this will do very well,” 
and he sat down on a stone under the camellia tree. 

“In Tokyo there are probably many remarkable things to be 
seen. May I ask when you arrived here?” 

“Yesterday.” 

Somehow Eiichi felt so oppressed that even talking to Hikos 
kichi was a trouble. 

Hikokichi rubbed some tobacco in his fingers and commenced 
to fill a large pipe. 


BROTHER AND SISTER 77 


“T see that pine tree has withered,” he remarked. 

“Yes, it has withered,” answered Eiichi shortly. Then he 
added, “I understand you are a believer in the Tenri religion?” 

eVies37 

Eiichi smiled slightly. “Would you mind telling me what 
Tenri really is?” he asked. 

“Well, sir, it would be impossible to tell you what Tenri is 
in a few words, it is such a wonderful religion,” and Hikokichi 
knocked the ashes out of his pipe. 

Ejichi’s curiosity was aroused a little. 

“Is there any reason why you should not tell me something 
about it?” he asked. “I hear a lot about Mother Miki. What 
kind of a person was she really?” 

“Well, Miki Nakayama,—that is Michi-iya-hirome-koto- 
shiru-hime-no-mikoto, known to the world as Mother Miki, was 
the founder of ‘Tenri.” Hikokichi displayed a little diffidence 
as he said this. 

“I see,” said Eiichi. “And Miki Nakayama was born in the 
province of Yamato, I believe.” 

“Yes, at the village of Mimita, in the district of Yamabé, in 
Yamato.”’ | 

“And I believe she died a long time ago?” 

“No, she departed this life on the 26th of September in the 
year 1887. The origin of Tenri was this. Miki was very beau- 
tiful from her youth. At thirteen years of age she was already 
married to Zembei Nakayama of Mishima in the township of 
Tambaichi. This Zembei was a carpenter and the marriage took 
place on the 15th of September in the year 1810. They lived as 
husband and wife very happily and had one son and five daugh- 
ters. But the time came when there was a great epidemic of the 
black pox, and five children of the house of Adachi, the town 
headman, who lived next door, all died, leaving only one child, 
the youngest. Miki was foster mother to this child, so she made 
every effort to keep the child from catching the disease, but as it 
also caught it it seemed that it too must die. Mother Miki, there- 
fore, thought that there was nothing to be done but to pray un- 
ceasingly with all her strength to the gods and saints to save the 
life of the child, and strange to say her prayers were answered 
and the life of the child was spared. That is how the Tenri 
religion was started. But it would be impossible to recount all 


78 BEFORE THE DAWN 


the virtuous deeds of the great founder of the religion, so numer- 


ous were they. To the consumptive and the dyspeptic the ‘Tenri 
religion has meant a renewal of life,—yes, to more than it would 
be possible to count.” 

Hikokichi’s thin lips became distended with pride as he talked, 
but somehow or other there seemed to Eiichi something base in 
it all, and he felt a vague distaste. Still, he remembered the 
case of Deborah, the prophetess, and he judged the greatness of 
the belief in Miki and her influence accordingly. 

“What is the truth about believers selling their houses and 
lands and contributing all to the faith?” he asked. 

“Well, Miki Nakayama, when she was forty years old, feel- 
ing that the teachings of Tenri must be earnestly propagated all 
over the world, decided to sell all her property and present the 
proceeds to the faith. “This was the beginning of the practice of 
believers contributing all their property to the faith. At any 
rate it is a wonderful thing that pilgrims to the head temple in 
Yamato are not required to pay even a copper of their expenses. 
I myself for many years was suffering from jaundice, but thanks 
to ‘Tenri I am now completely recovered, for which I am truly 
grateful.” 

But his voice had grown hoarse while he was talking and he 
had to spit when he had finished. Eiichi regarded him compas- 
sionately. Hikokichi wiped his lips with his hand as though they 
had become dry and commenced to speak again. 

““The head temple in Yamato is really magnificent. I made a 
pilgrimage there towards the end of last year, and really the 
Hongwanji temple at Kyoto, the Chionin, and others, are not 
to be compared with it. “The great rice cake offered at the 
temple at the New Year is an enormous one, and when it is 
removed it has to be cut into pieces with great saws like they 
use in cutting lumber. And to everybody that goes they offer 
rice-cake stew. It’s really a great affair, I assure you.” 

A bee flew out of the fading camellias. Everything was still. 

“Then it’s a religion of universal brotherhood, I suppose,” 
said Eiichi. 

“Mankind originated from the god and goddess, Izanagi and 
Izanami, as you know.” 

Hikokichi stopped to spit again, erasing the spittle with his 
clog. His heavy eyelids were half closed and he was silent for 


‘ 
, 


BROTHER AND SISTER 79 


atime. LEiichi looked at him attentively. His face was pale and 
his hair was becoming grizzled. His clothes were dirty and there 
was a hole in his socks from which his toe-nail projected. His 
girdle was of cheap material, the colour of which had faded. 

“Are Izanagi and Izanami two gods of the Tenri faith?” 
asked Eiichi. 

“There are ten gods,” replied Hikokichi, “but these ten gods 
proceeded from the sun and the moon, so that you may say that 
there are only two gods.” 

Hikokichi here heard the sound of feet near the gate and stood 
up to see who it was. It was Tsunckichi who had come back. 

Eiichi remained staring fixedly at his feet. 

“Ten gods? Who proceeded from two gods. . . . From the 
bride Meditation is born the child Fantasy, and the child Fantasy 
in turn becomes pregnant with gods. Then persons who talk 
about religion, ideality, and so on will certainly come to lose 
even their consciousness of self. Yes, but not to lose sight of 
self I have to concentrate it wholly at my feet. ‘The feet are an 
objective reality. They must not be confused with ideas. Real- 
ity? At the feet the shadow of reality dances.” 

Thus his thoughts wandered on. His vision became dim,— 
form and colour became confused,—his mind stopped working, 
—time and shadow seemed to chase each other. A dragon-fly 
went past. 

Hikokichi continued smoking. ‘Tsunekichi, after looking 
round the gate to see if his young master was there, came into 
the garden. 

“Halloa, is that you, Hikokichi? I was wondering who it was. 
Talking about Tenri again, eh?” and Tsunekichi began laugh- 
ing. 

“What’s he talking about now he has come back?” said Hiko- 
kichi. “Tsunekichi seems to be a little off his head lately.” 

The three laughed, but Tsunekichi soon turned grave. 

“Young master,” he said, “the master and mistress present 
their compliments to you.” 

“Was your master in?” 

“He returned at noon, when I had the honour of seeing him.” 

“What about the luggage?” 

“The master told me to leave the luggage as he wanted you to 
return to town to-day without fail.” 


80 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“He wanted me to go back? Yes? Thank you. I’m sorry 
to have given you so much trouble. Have you had your dinner?” 
Eiichi added kindly, although his heart sank. 

“They were kind enough to give me my dinner in town.” 

“You always like to shove yourself in where you can get some- 
thing good to eat, don’t you, Tsuné,” said Hikokichi. “Why 
didn’t you stop in town till the evening and pick up something 
nice?” and he laughed while he prepared to light his pipe. 

Tsunekichi stretched out his hand and knocked the matches 
out of the other’s fingers. 

“Save us, Lord God of Tenri,” he mimicked, laughing, and 
then after asking Eiichi if he had any further orders, he went 
busily out through the garden gate. | 

Hikokichi picked up the matches. 

“Tsuné’s always up to tricks,” he said. “He’s a terrible 
chap.” 

“However powerful the gods of Tenri may be,” said Eiichi, 
laughing, “they can’t stop Tsuné’s bad tricks, can they?” 

“He can’t leave off his tricks although he’s the father of a 
family now. How old is he?” 

“Thirty.” 

“He’s young yet.” 

“‘Hikokichi,” called Tsuné. He was standing clapping his 
hands together as if in prayer. “‘Deign to get rid of your prop- 
erty,” he mimicked. “Borrow money and sell your fields, O 
Lord God of Tenri!” and he went off into a peal of derisive 
laughter as he disappeared in the direction of the western out- 
house. The horse neighed on hearing the man bringing his feed. 

Yoshinori now came back from school and thrust his head for 
a moment round the garden gate, just to announce his return, and 
then went into the house. 

“The little master’s growing quite big,” said Hikokichi. 

“Yes, he’s getting a big boy,” said Eiichi. “Would it be pos- 
sible to get into town before dark?” 

“Oh, yes, easily. ‘The Sun God is still high yet.” 

“Then I'll start at once. Please go into the house, Mr. Hiko- 
kichi.” 

“Thank you,” and the two went in. 

There was a sound of singing from the western outhouse and 
a voice was heard— 


BROTHER AND SISTER 


How sleepy I am! 
I could sleep my fill. 
But with some one else 
*T would be better still]. 


‘The horse neighed. 


81 


CHAPTER VIII 
Old Memories 
KRM KKK MRA RRR RRAR 


1 N YHEN Eiichi came to Tamiya it was ebbtide and the 
banks of the river were uncovered. 

Tatsu’s father ferried him across, and while he 
was in the boat he asked about Tatsu and learned that he had 
died of dysentery. ‘The father maintained a cheerful face as he 
told the story, but the news saddened Eiichi. 

He got off at Shinden and went through a field of reeds, the 
property of his family. When he was a little boy, he remem- 
bered, he came one day to this field with girl companions to pull 
the young reeds. ‘Tsuruko ‘Tamiya came too and she was very 
industrious in pulling the reeds. When he had pulled thirty or 
forty he gave them all to Tsuruko and next day at school all the 
children made fun of him. On another day he discovered a 
lark’s nest there, but next day when he went again to see it he 
found that some one had been there already and had crushed it. 

Now, in the warmth of the spring, the reeds had burst out in 
all colours,—light brown, green, yellow, all mingling together 
very beautifully. You could hear the larks singing. About a 
mile beyond there was a very large dyke, and as far as that there 
were nothing but barley fields, where the barley was ripening 
well. Looking back, the dyke at Koden could be seen covered 
with undergrowth. Below it was the blue water running and 
above a large nettle tree, looking inexpressibly beautiful with its 
unfolding buds. In the direction of the upper reaches of the 
river Shiroyama at Tokushima could be clearly seen. 

There were no boats visible on the river. On the Koden side 
the wind blowing across the light green reeds made them undu- 
late like waves. 

He came to the end of the reed field and then passed through 
some barley fields belonging to his family. ‘Then he entered the 

82 


_ . 
a ee 


eo? 
———. 


_——_— “7. —) ~ —, ra —_— 


ee ee 


<6 


OLD MEMORIES 83 


fields of Nishi-no-Shintaku. A lark was singing, its song sound- 
ing to him like the cry of a cicada. ‘Then it descended some- 
where and all was silent. At that he remembered that he was 
going to Tokushima, and the thought of what his father would 
say to him laid a heavy load upon his heart. Oh, that he could 
build a hut on this open moor and live there to his own content- 
ment, nearer to God! But this moor, where the larks sang, was 
not all the world. Rural life was not the whole of life, and as 
he went along the field paths his thoughts grew busy. 

Why should he feel afraid of his father’s anger? Umé’s 
persecution was nothing. He was a man, with the spirit of 
modern times in him. Completely to deny all authority and 
secure peace and equality,—that was his task; but for the sake of 
eternal peace and equality one should not relinquish fire and 
sword. “For I am come to set a man at variance against his 
father, and the daughter against her mother, and the daughter-in- 
law against her mother-in-law.” So cried Christ in his ardour. 

But what of the old patriarchal system? Father? What 
was it? Christ said: “And call no man your father upon the 
earth; for one is your father, which is in heaven.” ‘That was 
what Christ said. What was father? And what authority? 

While he was thinking of these things he climbed the dyke. 
It seemed to him fully thirty to forty feet high. This dyke, he 
remembered, had been broken by the floods when he was a little 
boy and had been rebuilt. The foundation was made of blue- 
stone and in it were to be found small oblong yellow crystals. 
He and his playfellows had often gone there to get them. 

Then he began to recall old times,—how they used to carve 
pieces of marble; how his elder sister had shut him up in the 
outhouse for being naughty and what he had done there; how he 
had fallen from a tree at the back of the house; how two dealers 
in indigo had come from Echizen and had enshrined the god 
Aizen in the alcove and had worshipped him; how Ichijiro Ichi- 
kawa, a strolling player, had come and enacted the part of Chobei 
Banzui-in in a booth at Ushiyajima, and how he and his com- 
panions had imitated him and had made a theatre between the 
eaves of Nishira’s stable and Kanichi Ichibashi’s outhouse. He 
smiled at this last recollection. 

He remembered that he had secretly taken one of his elder 
sister’s dresses and some powder and a looking-glass from the 


84 BEFORE THE DAWN 


dressing room, and how he had made himself up below the 
lattice window, which only let in a little light. However, he 
made himself up as a woman as well as he could and then went 
and waited on the stage they had devised, standing behind the 
straw curtain till it rose, which it did at last. But the others 
never appeared, and so he went back to the outhouse to tell 
Kanichi to hurry up. Kanichi had put his clothes on inside out 
and had rouged his face. When he had finished fastening his 
girdle he called to “Bonbon” to tell him to wait until he him- 
self had appeared, and then he mounted on the stage and pre- 
tended that he was a servant running on an errand, repeating, 
“Essassa, essassa,” in the way they do. All the little boys and 
girls who were watching commenced to laugh, and Eiichi 
thought that he would like to make them laugh too. He took 
one more peep in the looking-glass—he really thought that he 
looked very beautiful—and then, lifting the folds of his sister’s 
long silk dress and with a downcast look, he came forth ever so 
sadly. His head, of course, was covered over—with Itchan’s 
black apron—to make it look like a married woman’s style of 
hairdressing. His appearance caused a great sensation, and he 
heard ‘T’suruko, who was behind, whisper to Sakaé Kawakami, 
“How beautiful he is!” This made him shy and he did not know 
what to do on the stage, but Kanichi, who was the servant, bound 
him up and kicked and bundled him off the stage behind. Then 
he thought that in the next scene he would be Kiyomasa Kato 
himself. While he was washing the powder off his face Tsuruko 
came in stealthily and said, “You were pretty as a woman just 
now.” Then she shoved something into his dress,—a square 
piece of cardboard, and ran away saying, “Don’t tell anybody.” 
Kanichi had gone back to his house for a dress, and Itchan and 
Shinichan were mending the curtain, so that there was nobody 
to see it. 

When ‘T’suruko got outside she shouted to Sakaé Kawakami, 
“ve just been to see Bonbon Niimi. He’s got himself up as 
Kiyomasa Kato. Do look now.” ‘Then six or seven little girls 
all came into the outhouse chattering together, just as Kanichi, 
who had come back for his clothes, appeared with nothing on. 

“Let’s chuck it, Bonbon,” he said. “My mother scolded me.” 

So the theatre came to an end. 


The thought that he had been made a pet of and praised by 


aa 
— 


OLD MEMORIES 85 


‘Tsuruko and that he could not appear on the stage again, but had 
to stop in the middle of the performance, made his heart beat 
fast as he went home. He looked at the piece of cardboard that 
Tsuruko had given him and he found that it was a photograph of 
Suma. The time was just before the summer holidays and he 
was not able to make any further approaches to Tsuruko, for he 
spent the summer playing at the office at Hyogo. He knew 
nothing of sensual love and passion, but the enchanting dreams 
of adolescence were checked for a time. When he returned to 
the village in September the rumour that Tsuruko had been long- 
ing for “Bonbon’s” return was so much talked about that he 
felt ashamed to see her. Then in April the following year he 
entered the Middle School, and, of course, after that they could 
not take any notice of each other. 

Thinking of these matters somehow made Eiichi feel lonely. 
The thought that the beautiful girl he had seen the day before 
was ‘l’suruko herself sent a still stronger thrill through his heart. 

Passing slowly through Kitashitara and coming to the village 
of Kitamura memories of the past again welled up,—how he had 
stolen sugar from the cupboard; how he had painted an old iron 
coin to make it look more valuable and passed it; how he had 
crammed bean flour, of which he was very fond, into a match- 
box, and, hiding himself behind the front outhouse, had filled 
his mouth with it; how he was scolded for buying and eating 
things in the street; how he stole some money and went to the 
end of the village, where there was a cheap sweetstuff shop, 
where he bought a lot of sweets shaped like pyramids. 

Once he had spent the night at the temple of Daishi at 
Otani in company with the housewife of Nishira. That was in 
the summer and he was terribly bitten by the mosquitoes and could 
not sleep a wink. On that feast day he always received a few 
coppers, and Hatsu and Ichi and the little boy from Nishi-no- 
Shintaku and he always went to worship at the shrine of Kobo. 
In those days he owned as many as seven purses. 

Then, in the summer night, there was the torchlight proces- 
sion, when the men used to call out in a loud voice, “Sanemori is 
passing.” At the end of the village they used to put out their 
torches according to the custom of that village. At Higashi- 
Umazumé the custom was not followed as it was at Otani in 
Yamaji every year. He used to look at it through the lattice of 


86 BEFORE THE DAWN 


the back parlour. Then at the beginning of autumn, when the 
world had become still and cool breezes were blowing over the 
rice fields, they could hear the drums of the lion-dancers, prac- 
tising somewhere near Yamaji. Sometimes they were loud and 
sometimes they were low, but they were always sufficiently loud 
to reach the ears of sleepers. The small drums sounded with a 
sharpness almost enough to break the tympanum, and the big 
drums boomed incessantly,—a dreary, melancholy sound, that 
one could not fail to hear. He remembered that as a boy of 
twelve or thirteen he was afraid that they might be attacked and 
destroyed at any moment. 

Also he remembered at the Bon festival the Jizo dance. They 
used to pile five or six benches one upon another in the yard of 
Ishikawa, the village official,—a man with a long smiling face, 
—and put a bamboo pole at each corner. “Then they spread a 
curtain round, and while some beat the drum others danced to the 
rhythm. Most of the dancers wore straw coats and woven hats, 
but some were dressed in eccentric costumes. Frequently the 
leaders took popular pieces from the tenth part of the Chronicle 


of the ‘Taiko'or the third part of the Futaba War Chronicle. 


Masu from Nishira always played the samisen, seated on the 
platform with the young men who were the leaders. They 
began: 


Oh, oh! The day is breaking 
And the temple bell doth sound. 


He himself once went on the stage after having some lessons 
from Masu’s father, but he did not keep time with the samisen 
and his voice was too low, so he gave it up in the middle, only 
receiving a common fan as an award, with which he went home 
disappointed. 

Many other recollections came to him of which he was 
ashamed. | 

When he got to Kitamura he took a jinrikisha, but it was past 
five o’clock when he got to his father’s house at Tokushima. The 
city seemed somewhat noisy to him. 


4 
2 
bs 
? 
by 
~ 


CHAPTER IX 


At the Meeting House 
MMM MMM HK OM MOM OM OM OM 


OR four days Eiichi had been a teacher at the elementary 
HK school. His father had been entrusted with important 
business on behalf of the Municipality and had gone up 
to Tokyo. In consequence they had had supper earlier than usual 
and Eiichi had gone out for a walk afterwards. It was a week 
since he had come back from Tokyo and the day was Saturday. - 
There was a sprinkling of students in the streets, out for exer- 
cise, and Elichi himself had been as far as Sako. Now the 
evening was drawing in and he was plodding along Higashishin- 
machi on his way home. When he came to the corner he saw 
a number of people standing under the eaves of a building from 
which he could hear the sound of a hymn. 

Eiichi also stopped and peeped in. ‘The building had a front- 
age of about twenty-four feet and was about thirty feet deep. 
On the mud floor there were placed a dozen benches which were 
filled with children. On the right, in front, against the clap- 
board wall, there was a clumsy staircase, and by the side of the 
staircase there were hung sheets of paper on which the hymns 
were written out. On the left there was a recess which was 
spread with mats, and in front of the recess there was a gangway 
about three feet wide, which was packed with little girls. In 
the middle there was a table covered with a white tablecloth, 
with a large reed-organ standing to the right. Above the organ 
was hanging a lamp with a rusty tin shade, and on the yellow 
plaster by the side there was an old map of Judea. ‘The paper 
on the screens at the back of the room was brown with age 
and torn in places. On the left and right were thin pillars in 
the middle of the wall, sooty and worm-eaten, and to the pillar 
on the right was fixed a paper on which was written in clear 
handwriting: “Bible Class: Every Friday evening from seven 


o'clock at the Rev. Mr. Mackenzie’s in “Tokushima Hon-machi. 
87 


88 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Sermon every Sunday morning at ten o’clock at the Tori-machi — 


Church.” On the right, in the corner at the end of the benches, 
there was a hot-potato-seller’s handcart. 

Everybody passing by peeped into the meeting-house and the 
first thing they saw was a beautiful young lady of about twenty, 
or perhaps eighteen or nineteen, teaching the children the hymns. 
Her hair was coiled in beautiful folds and she was wearing a 
purple skirt. Her eyes were large and black, with delicately 
folded lids, she had a deliciously chubby chin, and the beautiful 
crescent formed by her eyebrows was indescribable. With her 
rosy cheeks, she was indeed the picture of a simple country 
maiden. 

Etichi’s heart whispered to him “It is Tsuruko,” and, mingled 
with the crowd of curious people at the entrance, he continued to 
gaze. : 

The hymn had finished, and from the benches there arose a 
clamour from the boys. Their leader was a boy of some twelve 
or thirteen. His underlings, some five or six boys, were strug- 
gling for the seats. In a moment the leader had mounted to 
the gangway, driven the little girls off it, and installed himself 
there. His followers followed his example. Then from their 
midst a shrill voice cried. 


Fight manfully onward, 
Dark passions subdue, 


and all the boys, thinking that a hymn was to be sung, began 
singing all at once in a loud voice. At the end they gave a yell 
and everybody laughed. 

Then a man who was apparently the pastor stood up in front 
of the table. He was’ dressed in foreign clothes and appeared 
to be about fifty. His hair was slightly parted, and his drooping 
moustache hung over his wide mouth, the right corner of which 


was slightly contorted. He opened a small New Testament. 


‘The children were still making a noise. 

“As I am going to talk to you,” said the pastor, “I must ask 
the children to keep quiet.” 

He gave the order very politely, but the leader of the boys 
jumped up, and pulling down one corner of his mouth with one 
hand and imitating a moustache with the fingers of the other, 
he ran out. Immediately all the other children followed his 


SS ee 


= 


re a ee ce eT Tee 


) ll 
“a 
q 


AT THE MEETING HOUSE 89 


example and ran out. “They were mocking the pastor. Once 
outside the children began to shout ““Wry-mouth! Wry-mouth!” 
but suddenly one of the little girls discovered that Eiichi was 
standing there. “The new teacher! ‘The new teacher!” she 
whispered, and in a moment they were all as quiet as mice. But 
it did not last long, and one by one the children soon made off. 

The pastor finished his silent prayer. “We will now sing a 
hymn,” he said, and began turning over the sheaf of hymns which 
hung by the side of the staircase. Finally he came upon the one 
he wanted and drew the attention of the extraordinarily beauti- 
ful girl to it. It began: 


Pass me not, O gentle Saviour, 
Hear my humble cry; 

While on others thou art calling, 
Do not pass me by. 


The girl, seating herself in front of the organ, began to play 
and sing. E1ichi was carried away by the sweetness of the 
hymn. 

At the close of the hymn the girl seated herself on the other 
side of the table with bowed head, and the pastor began his 
sermon. 

The crowd which had collected in front of the meeting-house 
began to melt away as the sermon progressed, until at last there 
were only left five people in the meeting-house. In front there 
was seated a short, married woman of about fifty years of age, 
whose red face seemed to indicate that she was fond of drink. 
She was dozing. Just behind her was the landlord of the build- 
ing, the master of the Yoshida tailoring shop next door, holding 
in his arms a little girl of about three, who was fast asleep. He 
was sitting as if listening to the sermon. On the left, next to 
the wall, was seated a young man of about twenty-five, lame 
and pock-marked, dressed in a narrow-sleeved kimono and a 
white girdle. He was the caretaker of the meeting-house, and 
appeared full of piety, drawn, as it were, from heaven. When 
he shut his eyes it was to pray; when he opened them it was to 
fix them attentively on the lips of the pastor. On the next bench 
but two, next to the tailor, was sitting a young man of about 
twenty-one, rather neatly dressed in a narrow-sleeved kimono and 
a black girdle. His large clogs were as thin as a leaf and had 


90 BEFORE THE DAWN 


rope latchets. He looked like a workman. ‘The remaining person | 


was Ejichi Niimi, who was seated behind the caretaker. He 
was dressed in Japanese dress and appeared to be somewhat agi- 
tated. Besides these there was Tsuruko, who was seated on 
the other side of the table listening to the pastor. 

The pastor preached very earnestly. Sometimes he appeared to 
be addressing himself to the grave-looking workman; the next 
moment he had fixed his eyes on Eiichi and was preaching to him. 
Outside a jinrikishaman stopped and two or three people gath- 
ered. ‘The pastor was earnestly telling the story of Jesus and 
Nicodemus, and his eyes were lit up by his fervour. ‘The 
*rikisha made a creaking sound as the ’rikishaman departed and 
at the noise Tsuruko lifted her head for a moment and looked 
out into the street. 

The sermon was a long one, lasting an hour. When it was 
finished the girl took her place in front of the organ, and the 
married woman with a taste for drink opened her eyes and then 
abruptly rose and departed. ‘Then came the concluding hymn: 


There is a fountain filled with blood, 
Drawn from Immanuel’s veins; 

And sinners plunged beneath that flood 
Lose all their guilty stains. 


Listening, Eiichi felt in his heart that he also had become a 
follower of Jesus. ‘Tsuruko’s thrilling voice pierced him to the 
heart and, rapt, he closed his eyes and listened to her voice. 
At the end of the hymn the pastor began a prayer, and Eiichi, 
with his eyes closed, began to revolve many things in his mind. 

“Christ was taken to the very top of a pinnacle of the temple 
in the capital and told: to throw himself down. As he did not 
he was a coward. If he had had the courage to jump down I 
would have knelt before him. But humanity has not the courage 
to fling itself down from the pinnacle and all is useless. If 
Christ had flung himself down the question of life would have 
been solved; it would have been settled for ever whether he was 
a manor not. Just because Christ did not fling himself down 
from the pinnacle the world is left in doubt. Even if it had been 
written that he did fling himself down and that the angels had 
held him up, people would probably have rejected it scornfully 
as a miracle. But still, if Christ was in any case to die on the 


AT THE MEETING HOUSE 91 


Cross, like the unhappy Euphorion, it would have been better for 
him to show humanity that it was to die. He left the world in 
doubt and mankind is discouraged. Our philosophers have lost 
their fervour and are asleep. Must we then call down the fire 
of Elijah—that which burns to eternity? We must take iron 
tongs and, seizing the mouths of the sleepy philosophers, pull out 
their long, soft tongues and press them with fearful strength 
between the red-hot tongs till their mouths are filled with salt 
blood and their jaws twitch and tingle and their spinal-cords are 
numbed. ‘The nerve-centres of these visionary philosophers will 
then break, and what will be left will be only that nerve centre 
which produces a mathematical philosophy as hard as stones. 
/ Mankind must have fervour before philosophy will flourish. But 
' itis useless. Since my return from Tokyo I am tired of life. I 
\_ only wish to revile life.” 

The prayer was finished, but the only two to say “Amen” 
were the caretaker and Tsuruko. ‘The pastor put on his clogs 
quickly and came over to Eiichi. 

“Excuse me,” he said, bowing, “have you attended Christian 
services before?” | 

“Yes,” answered Eiichi shortly, casting a glance at Tsuruko 
and again bowing his head, while he twisted his fingers nerv- 
ously. 

“Where did you attend?” 

“When I was in Tokyo, a week ago.” 

“Tn school?” 

mish af 2 ok 

“What school?” 

“The Meiji Gakuin.” 

“Oh, really! You went to the Meiji Gakuin? Then are you 
a believer?” 

‘Tsuruko was coming towards them. 

“No, I am not a believer yet, but... 

““Won’t you come and see me some time? My house is behind 
the church in Tori-machi. Excuse me, but where is your house?” 

Tsuruko had now come up to the pastor. 

“Mr, Hashimoto,” she said, “I must go now. Good evening,” 
and she made a polite bow as she prepared to depart. 

“T will come with you, Miss Tamiya. Please wait a little. 
Are you in a hurry?” 


33 


92 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Oh, no,” answered Tsuruko, and then she noticed that the 
lame caretaker had some trouble in shutting the large doors and 
she went to his help. 

“My house is in ‘Tokushima Hon-cho,” said Eiichi. 

“‘Whereabouts in Tokushima Hon-cho?” 

*fAt Niimi’s,” he answered. 

Mr. Hashimoto appeared not to realise that Eiichi was the son 
of the Mayor. 

“Where did you say?” he asked. “Is it near the washer- 
man’s?” 

“It is next door,” said Eiichi. 

“Then you are the Mayor’s.. . 

ee) Goto 

‘Tsuruko, who was waiting outside the door, heard the words 
“Niimi”?” and “Mayor” and peeped in. Then with a surprised 
voice she cried, “I—really ... Really I'd forgotten you en- 
tirely. How rude you must have thought me,” and she came in. 

Tsuruko was not without a feeling that it was rather bold of 
her to bow to a handsome young man. 

“Are you Mr. Niimi?” she asked. ‘‘How tall you’ve grown. 
I shouldn’t have recognised you,” and she laughed while she 
bowed. 

“Ah, Tsuruko,” said Eiichi, and he got up and bowed. 

“How do you do?” 

““How are you?” 

“You know Mr, Niimi then, Miss Tamiya?” said the pastor, 
smiling. 

“Yes, we lived in the same village, just behind each other, 
and were friends at the same school. . . . I am even distantly 
related to Mr. Niimi. ... . But I hadn’t seen him for such a 
long time that I’d quite forgotten him. How tall you’ve 
grown!” | 

She spoke unaffectedly and with engaging charm. 

“Haven’t you seen each other for a long time?” 

“Let’s see, it must be nearly seven years, isn’t it, Mr. Niimi?” 

“Yes, something like seven years.” 

Walking together the three crossed over Shimmachi Bridge. 
The pastor left them at Tori-machi, and farther on Tsuruko 
and Eiichi, after an animated talk, separated and went home. 

The evening air was chilly. 


39 


CHAPTER X 


Love and Philosophy 


HE door was shut; it was half-past nine. ‘The Niimi 
family rose early and so went to bed early, and this 
evening, as the master was absent, they had gone to bed 
especially early. Eiichi had got in by routing out Kichisaburo, 
the servant, but the air in the house was so stuffy and there was 
such a smell of plaster that he felt he could hardly breathe. In 
the back room the lamp was burning; Umé was sleeping on one 
side and Masunori on the other. As it was half-past nine it was 
really half an hour after closing time, but Umé did not seem 
particularly cross about his being late. 

Eiichi was excited by his meeting with Tsuruko and he deter- 
mined to do some studying. A lamp! He must open the cup- 
board and get one out. But the door of that cupboard made an 
awful sound when you opened it and it would certainly wake 
Umé up. Half-past nine! Now for some study! He was sure 
to be scolded in the morning in any case. 

He opened the door of the cupboard in the entrance very 
cautiously and took out alamp. Matches! In the corner of the 
kitchen. He mustn’t make a noise. But when he went to find 
the matches there were none, so he went into the back room and 
took the matches off the stand of the night-lamp. 

When he turned to go upstairs he found that all the stairs were 
spread with brown paper to keep them clean. Muttering over 
such parsimony he began to go up, but the house was new, and 
the stairs groaned and creaked. “I’m only going upstairs to 
study,’ he thought, “so I don’t care if they do make a row. 
There’s really no need to be so careful about making a noise,” 
and he began to go up boldly, at which the creaking increased, 
echoing all over the house till it seemed like an earthquake. ‘Ah, 
that’s bad,” he thought, but the farther he went the louder the 


stairs creaked. He expected that he would be scolded by Umé 
93 


94 BEFORE THE DAWN 


and he listened attentively to hear if she was calling him. Sure 
enough, as he expected, at that moment he heard the shrill voice 
of Umé from down below. 

“‘Who’s that making such a noise going upstairs when people 
are sleeping?” 

“Tt’s my fault,” thought Eiichi, “but it’s rather cheeky of her 
to ask ‘Who’s that?’ when she knows who it is.” 

“Tt’s me,” he answered quietly. 

“‘Are you going up to study now?” 

“Yes,” he answered shortly. He went noisily up to the top, 
not caring what Umé said, and slid back the door of his study. 

In the study also brown paper was spread over the mats, at 
which Eiichi was not a little surprised. Did Umé think that he 
had no esthetic tastes? But never mind! ... Ah, he had again 
forgotten to close the shutters when he went out. He was sure 
to be scolded in the morning. Was Tsuruko still studying, he 
wondered, and he slid back one of the shutters and looked out 
to the northwest. ‘The shutters of the two-storied house were 
still open and he could see on the screens the reflection of the 
lamp and a black shadow which kept appearing and disappearing. © 

“That is a woman’s shadow,” he thought. “If one of the 
screens were open I could see her. What lovable creatures 
women are! JI wish I could fly over there... . But I must 
study.” 

He pulled to the shutter with a bang and sat down in front 
of his desk. The oil in the lamp was low and the chimney had 
not been cleaned. Even Kichisaburo treated him with contempt, 
he thought angrily. ‘The writing-box had been changed also. 
“Tt was done while I was out,” he thought, and all the pleasure 
of his outing was gone. In those three hours his room had all 
been altered and the thought of those three hours became hateful 
to him. 

But it was no use grumbling. He would try to write some- 
thing in his ‘“‘Meditations.”” His ideas were all at sea that eve- 
ning, but he must get that question settled quickly. Was that 
some one speaking from down below? He had an impression 
that that beastly Umé was coming upstairs. Was he mistaken? 
Well, he would grind some ink. What sort of a brush was it? 
The point was worn out. Never mind! He must be patient and 
try and write something. 


LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY 95 


Eiichi took the brush and opened a notebook of about three 
hundred leaves. Then he wrote the heading, “Materialistic View 
of Noumenon, May 12th.” ‘The ink was thin and the letters 
blurred. Such cheap stuff! What was the use of such stuff even 
if you did get a big piece? The smallest fragment of Kobaien 
ink was preferable. Such persecution he suffered! . . . But 
he would endure it... . Yet how she did persecute him in 
everything! Impudent slut! So thinking he began to write: 

“Great strides have been made in the study of electrical 
phenomena. In a recent paper there appeared a discussion of the 
shape of electrons. Perhaps in the near future the consciousness 
of man will be explained by means of the electron theory.” 

Hm! Was that a voice from downstairs? He didn’t care if 
Umé did come upstairs. He would only go on studying. What 
did he care for her persecution? In his studies he was beyond 
either pessimism or optimism. He would develop his abilities. 
“What” does not involve the meaning of “for” or “and.” To 
seek truth the wise man must be clear-headed. For himself 
colour and smell, tears and laughter, outline and shadow no 
longer existed: only the transparency of glass. He was not con- 
cerned with the dust and rubbish of the common pegple sus 

But how beautiful and lovable Tsuruko was! And how much 
to be pitied for the transference of her brother to a post-office 
in Formosa! She would be sorry to part from her only brother, 
especially as he was going to the unhealthy climate of Formosa. 
He sympathised with them. Tsuruko had told him that as soon 
as the Girls’ High School was opened she had entered it as a 
second year student. Now she was taking an extra course after 
graduating. . . . Now then. 

“Even if there come such a time it will not be possible for 
the blind theory of mechanism to subdue the sense of design 
which is a part of the human consciousness. Nor will it be pos- 
sible to prove that the mysterious interdependent ions which have 
appeared in time and space are the infinite noumenon which Kant 
called the Ding an sich.” 

The thought of Kant’s phenomenalism and Hamilton’s rela- 
tivism made him shrink back as if cool water were being poured 
down the back of his neck. . . . 

Tsuruko had been baptised last year, on the 21st of F ebruary,— 
blessed day! He had spoken to her a little about Socialism and 


96 BEFORE THE DAWN 


she had told him that she had read Isod Abé’s book on Switzer- 
land and the life of Lassalle published by the Heiminsha. She 
was glad that he had attended the Meiji Gakuin, but she appeared 
to be a little disappointed when he said that he was not a be- 
liever. When she said, “Isn’t it strange that both you and I 
should have inclined our ears to the words of Christ?” he had 
been not a little perturbed. Certainly Christ was a great teacher; 
certainly he was the world’s most precious symbol of love. But 
the theory of cognition would not admit him; cognition does not 
know God. If the materialistic view of noumenon could prove 
that God, by his own power, had created the universe, then he 
would believe in Christ. Ah! he was indulging in dreams again. 

“If we are conscious of noumenon the thing that makes us 
conscious of itis energy. That is plain. But to discuss the shape 
of electrons is merely a subjective fancy or hypothesis. One 
might suppose an ion to have a shape as an objective truth, but 
to realise this as an actual noumenon is not permitted by the latest 
psychology. Force may act blindly, but we must admit the 
development of our consciousness from that force. But all cogni- 
tion being relative, if the mechanical theory were separated from 
the design theory we could not understand it. . . .” 

Ah, he was tired of it! If he went on arguing in that way 
he shouldn’t be surprised if he became a spiritualist. To go into 
the theory of cognition was too troublesome. He could not 
write any more; he hadn’t enough energy to meditate any further 
on philosophy. “Tsuruko had completely occupied his thoughts. 
But that was not the way to become a philosopher. If he was 
to make any contribution to Japanese philosophy he must bring 
himself into a more settled mood. Karl Marx said that now was 
the time for wise men 'to appear in the world and solve social 
problems from their very roots. Rather than prophets the world 
was seeking a new system of philosophy. ... It was useless. 
Philosophy had been driven out.by love. ~All the world’s greatest 
philosophers had practised asceticism and celibacy, among others 
Christ, Buddha, Epictetus, Augustine, Spinoza, Leibnitz, Kant, 
Hume, Locke, Mill, Schopenhauer, as well as the Buddhists and 
many of the Christian saints. Why was it that he alone could 
not free himself from sensuality and grasp firmly the key that 
opened the intellect? . .. But which was most fundamental, 
the intellect or the senses? If philosophy was the most funda- 


La eS en hee 


| 
Z 
y 


LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY 97 


mental then flesh was the most holy part of philosophy. . . . He 
had already been captured by Tsuruko. 

Sex did not require much explanation. Man was born of 
woman and begat women. He wanted to beget a child. Yes, he 
wanted to beget a child. Somehow or other he felt that love 
would be incomplete without a child. That was the first time 
in his life that he had thought of such a thing. What would be 
the sex of the child that he could beget, he wondered. Was not a 
child the finest of all artistic productions? —a plump, kicking 
child! Love! Reproduction! There was no need to write a 
book of six or seven hundred pages on the female sex like Koma- 
kichi Iga. Love! ‘To live with a woman! That would solve 
every problem of philosophy. “Tsuruko’s parting “Good night” 
still lingered in his ears. His whole body was dissolved. He had 
never met any girls except servants and waitresses and milk- 
hall girls, and he had never had such a sensation as he felt when 
walking by the side of the beautiful Tsuruko. He felt as if he 
wanted to spring upon her suddenly, catch her in his arms and 
carry her away to the inmost recesses of the grove of Shiroyama, 
so yielding she seemed. At the least he would have liked to 
squeeze her hand at parting. But an inward voice had told him 
that true love was above all sensuality, and his hand had shrunk 
back. She was his divinity; he could not profane her. Besides, 
her honour kept him from stretching out his hand. . . . And 
yet he wanted to squeeze her hand. But to stand aloof from sen- 
sual pleasure? . . . What a wretched creature he was after 
all! Oh, if he could but get a glimpse of Tsuruko’s face now! 
Oh, to sleep and think of her face in his dreams! How sleepy he 
was! 

Eiichi stretched out his legs under the desk and lay on his back. 
Oh, how he wanted her! If some one would go and call her. 
. . . A thrill ran through him and he covered his face with his 
hands. Just then he suddenly heard a voice from the door say, 
“Brother, go to bed.” 

Eiichi sat up with an involuntary movement by the side of the 
desk and looked behind him; but Umé was not there. It was 
his imagination. He thought of reading again, but his head felt 
so heavy that his courage failed him. Again he lay down, mur- 
muring, “Oh, how I want Tsuruko!” It would have been 
better not to have left her rather than suffer the torments of 


98 BEFORE THE DAWN 


desire. He looked from time to time towards the door lest he 
should be found by Umé lying there on his back, but Umé did 
not appear and for a time he conjured up Tsuruko,—her form 
and movements. 

Then he heard a voice from the doorway, “‘Brother, you must 
go to bed.” 

He looked at the door and this time it was really Umé stand- 
ing there in her dressing-gown. He sat up embarrassed, resting 
his elbows on the desk and hanging his head in silence. 

“If you go to sleep like that,” said Umé, “you'll upset the 
lamp on the desk with your feet and it'll be dreadful to have 
a fire while your father’s away. “That’s why it’s best to go to bed 
early and get up early. Please come downstairs and go to bed.” 

Set the place afire? What a fuss she makes, he thought; but 
he was silent. 

“Brother, please go to bed.” 

Eiichi did not even lift his face. 

“Tt’s eleven o’clock already, really.” 

Eiichi did not move. 

“Please go to bed,” said Umé. She moved towards the stair- 
case as if to go downstairs, but came back again. 

“The paper spread on the mats, you know,” she said, “is be- 
cause the mats are new and the desk and the bookcase will make 
such marks on the mats that they'll be quite spoiled. So I got 
Kichisaburo to get the coverings out of the storehouse this eve- 
ning and spread them on the mats. You didn’t know because I 
didn’t tell you, but if you’re cross about the mats being covered 
up that’s the reason. So don’t be angry.” 

Hearing these excuses Eiichi turned his face a little towards 
Umé and looked at her attentively from head to foot. 

“Brother, ’m going downstairs now. Please come down at 
once.” 

Again Umé turned to go downstairs, but instead opened the 
screen to see if the shutters were fastened. 

“Kichisaburo shut them,” she said, “as the young master had 
left them open after dark.” 

She looked hard at Eiichi’s profile and Eiichi turned his face 
and darted a sharp look at her. ‘Then with another “Go to 
bed”? Umé turned to go downstairs. When she had got as far as 


LOVE AND PHILOSOPHY res 


the door Eiichi gave a laugh. She thought he was laughing at 
her. 

“What a nasty laugh you have,” she said, and then she hesi- 
tated a moment thinking how she could take her revenge. 

“Ain’t you going downstairs?” she ventured. “I’m going to 
put the lamp out and take it downstairs, so you’d better go down 
first.” 

She received no answer. 

“It ain’t right of you to sit up late and risk setting fire to the 
place, and I’m going to put it out.” 

She spoke threateningly and going up to Eiichi blew out the 
lamp. Eiichi made no resistance. He jumped up and went down-. 
stairs to the inner room to sleep. In bed he fell to weeping. 


CHAPTER XI 


A Visit to the Slums 


RMRRRRKRRRKRARKRRKAK 


N a Tuesday evening, three days later, Eiichi was stand- 

() ing idly outside the imposing gate of his father’s house, 
hardly noticing the people passing along the street. He 

was not thinking of anything in particular, but just idling away 
the time, when his attention was suddenly attracted by two chil- 
dren who were running from the direction of Fukushima Bridge. 

The first child was dressed in a ragged faded dress that had 
once been dark blue, with sandals on his feet as big as boats. His 
age was about ten or eleven and he looked a little ragamuffin. In 
his hand he carried an old figured towel in which there was some 
sort of grain. His girdle had come undone,—probably while he 
was running. 

The child running after him had a respectable appearance and 
looked like a child of the middle classes. He was barefooted. 

Eiichi noticed that the first boy was being teased by the boy 
running after him and thought that he would go and stop him. 
‘The two boys continued running up to the corner near Eiichi’s 
house, when suddenly the boy that was running behind gave the 
little ragamuffin in front a push, causing what he was carrying 
to fly out of his hand and making him fall down on his face 
with a bang. His fall apparently did not make him cry, but 
when he saw the rice that he was carrying in the towel all 
scattered about he lifted up his voice and howled. ‘The boy who 
had pushed him over appeared very proud of his feat, and giving a 
triumphant yell to a crowd of boys who were gathered far down 
the street, he ran back again. 

Eiichi, smiling, drew near to the other boy, who was stand- 
ing forlornly looking after the fleeing shadow of the bad boy 
and crying with anger. 

“Don’t cry, there’s a good boy,” said Eiichi; “don’t cry,” and 
he dusted the child’s dress. 

100 


as OS ee ee ee ae 


- = 
<—— 


A VISIT TO THE SLUMS 101 


The boy watched until his tormentor had disappeared among 
the crowd of other boys and then commenced to gather up the 
rice, mixed with the sand and pebbles of the road, and put it 
into the towel which he had spread out on the ground. ‘Then 
he sobbed out, “Won’t my father be mad with me when I get 
home!” 

Eiichi sympathetically helped the boy to gather up the rice,. 
asking him at the same time where he lived. But although he 
asked him two or three times the boy did not answer. At length, 
after Eiichi had asked him four or five times the boy pointed 
with his chin and said “Over there,” without explaining where 
“over there” was, adding with a sob, ““Won’t my father be mad 
with me when I get home!” 

“Well then, shall I go with you?” said Eiichi. 

But the boy grunted and shook his head. 

“They'd be mad if I went with a stranger,” he said in a low 
voice, as if talking to himself. 

“Why?” 

“°Coz,” and the boy began to rake the scattered rice together 
quickly. “Then, to show his rejection of Eiichi’s help he jumped 
up and began to run away. But Eiichi caught hold of him. 

“Tl go with you and explain it all,” he said kindly. 

But the boy continued to run on in silence. Eiichi overtook 
the boy again. 

“I suppose your father will be angry with you for having 
spoiled the rice,” he said. “Shall I go to your house and tell 
your father all about it and get him to forgive you? Don’t cry 
any more.” 

‘The boy offered no further resistance to Eiichi’s advances, but 
he still went on crying. Accommodating his pace to that of the 
boy Eiichi went along with him. 

“Why did that other boy push you over?” he asked. “Who 
is he?” 

“He lives at Iwaki’s.” 

“What was the matter?” 

- The child tried to answer, but his sobs prevented him from 
speaking. 

“Don’t cry like that, there’s a good boy,” said Eiichi. “What 
was the matter?” 

“T ...I1.... When I went to buy some rice at the rice- 


102 BEFORE THE DAWN 


shop near Fukushima Bridge that boy and the others were all 
there, and he says, “That’s the fellow I saw begging down at the 
landing-stage,’ and he slapped my face, and when I run away they 
all run after me, calling out ‘Make him cry’. . .” 

“Yes,” said Eiichi. “What a bad boy!” and his eyes filled 
with tears as he thought how the ingenuous explanation of the boy 
showed all the cruelty of the children of the capitalists. 

No more words passed between them. ‘The evening was now 
drawing in and the crows on Shiroyama were silent. Guided 
by the boy he crossed Fukushima Bridge and, turning to the 
right, went about fifty yards till they came to a row of shops. 
‘There, between a clog shop and a potato-dealer’s, was an obscure 
alley. As they went along this winding alley the stench of rotten 
pickles was at times unbearable; it was an indication to Elichi 
that he was in the shadow of the slums. In truth he had 
happened upon a place that was beyond his imagination. The 
shadow of the boy trotting along in front became lost. It was 
a world the imagination had not pictured. The roofs were low 
and the tenements divided into such small sections that they 
seemed only about the size of the entrance of an ordinary house. 
“Is it necessary that people should live in such quarters?” he 
thought. 

The houses were mostly dark, with their doors shut, and those 
that were lit up had at best only a tiny glass lamp, the generality 
having tin lamps with cotton wicks. As Eiichi was going along, 
looking on both sides, he heard a woman scolding in a shrill 
voice in the third house where there was a light. 

“You young brat,” she was saying, “I sent you on an errand 
to Fukushima Bridge and you stop out all this time . . .” 

‘Then he heard the child being beaten and the sound of his 
voice crying. He stopped abruptly in front of the house, where 
he saw a woman of about thirty-four or thirty-five, stooping 
down lighting a fire in the grate. She had the tongs in her 
hand. Looking behind him he peeped into another house across 
the alley. It was full of smoke, but he made out on the opposite 
side of the grate, a girl of about eight or nine, and an old man, 
apparently suffering from disablement, who was lying with his 
face towards him. 

“Such dotage and smoke,” Eiichi thought. ‘May the day 
never come when I shall feel called upon to help an old man 


: 


A VISIT TO THE SLUMS 103 


like that! Yet they too wish to live,” and he wrinkled his 
brows. 

“Excuse me,” he said, and the woman replied, “‘Please come 
in,” apologising for the squalor of the place while she examined 
Eiichi sharply. From her tightly-bound hair, covered with flue, 
he thought she must be a spinner or weaver. Although she had 
asked him to come in, the sight of that old man lying about four 
feet behind him across the alley had given him a revulsion of 
feeling, and he felt inclined to go away and enjoy the sight of 
a beautiful face again. ‘‘Are the slums so wretched as this?” 
he thought. “If it were a young man lying sick there might 
still be some hope; but in the case of a dotard like that it is un- 
speakable,” and Eiichi shuddered. 

“Thank you,” he said stiffly. He wanted to look again into 
the house behind him, but the thought of the old man lying there 
on the thin bedclothes made him afraid. 

‘The woman spoke courteously to Eiichi. The boy was lying 
face downwards on the floor of the room, with his feet hanging 
down on the mud floor of the basement, which was some three 
feet below the level of the room. He was still holding the 
bundle of rice and crying. 

“Ain’t you going to give me the rice?” said the woman to 
him. “What are you lying there for? Stop that crying and look 
after the fire.” 

Eiichi thought that the time had come for an explanation 
and he entered. 

“The truth is,” he said, “I’ve come to ask you to forgive your 
little boy.” 

“Eh?” interrupted the woman sharply. ‘Has that boy been 
up to something bad again? He’s so bad we don’t know what to 
do with him. If he’s done something bad T’ll have to ask your 
pardon.” 

But she did not seem at all concerned, nor did her manner 
show any respect for Eiichi. 

“Ain’t you going to look after the fire?” she said to the boy, 
giving him a slap on the head and snatching the bundle from 
him. 

“Won’t you give me that bundle?” said Eiichi, seeing this. 
“Tl pay for the rice.” 

“What's it all about?” said the woman, and she opened the 


104 BEFORE THE DAWN 


bundle and looked at the rice by the light of the fire. She did 
not appear surprised to find the rice all mixed with sand and 
stones, but put it on a shelf and going up to the boy gave him 
another slap on the head which made him howl. 

“Get over there and look after the fire,” she stormed. ‘Father, 
the rice is all mixed with sand and stones. We won’t be able to 
eat it to-night.” 

She looked over to a corner of the room while she said this, 
and then from the corner of the room there came a voice: “It’s 
a poor place, sir, but won’t you sit down.” 

A head was thrust out from the quilt for a moment, bowing 
to Ejichi. | 

Enichi was startled. In this house, with a single room of nine 
feet by six feet and a basement of twelve feet by three feet, 
another person added to the two already there could hardly pass 
unnoticed. Certainly when he had gone in there had not ap- 
peared to be any man likely to be the boy’s father, in spite of the 
boy’s continual references to his father, but he had noticed some 
bedclothes in a corner and thought that they had been rolled 
together and left there by some one on rising in the morning. 
Now that a voice came from them his attention was attracted to 
them. ‘This was certainly the father,—this man with the long 
hair, pale face and colourless lips, whose appearance disgusted 
Etichi. 

Eiichi stood at the entrance with one hand on the doorpost 
and one foot on tiptoe in hesitation. | 

“Thank you,” he said. “Are you suffering from some ill- 
ness?” | 

He asked the question kindly, and the father, who was gazing 
into the fire, turned and looked at him again. 

“Well, it ain’t exactly what you might call illness,” said the 
man. “You see I was working on the railway up to March, but 
just at the beginning of that month, when I was at Kamoshima, 
my feet were crushed by an engine,—yes, and there ain’t no 
hope of my ever standing again. So D’ve just got to spend my 
time doing nothing. Please sit down.” 

The woman returned to the fire and squatted down before 
it, and her husband’s face was hidden in her shadow. The boy 
was still lying face downwards. 

“Is that so? It must be very hard for you.” 


A VISIT TO THE SLUMS 105 


The woman turned round and looked at Eiichi. | 

“Really, master,” she said, “I’m thoroughly tired of life. 
After my man had got crippled like that the railway throws him 
out with only twenty yen compensation, and we had no friends to 
go to to help us. I work from early morning till late at night 
winding spools for weaving, but though we live as sparing as can 
be, one woman, whatever she does, can’t earn enough to feed 
two people. ‘This evening he said that he’d like a little rice as 
he hadn’t tasted any for so long, and so I sent the boy to buy 
half a quart of the cheapest rice, and that’s how I’m served.” 

Her tone was one of infinite sorrow. 

“I saw what happened,” said Eiichi. “Your little boy did 
the errand all right, but when he was coming back a bad boy 
from somewhere or other shoved him from behind and made 
him fall, and so he spilt the rice. It wasn’t the fault of your 
boy.” 

“Oh, that was it, was it? And so you kindly come, although 
you didn’t know us, to tell us it wasn’t the boy’s fault? I don’t 
know what to say to thank you. But the boy’s a bad boy and 
not to be depended on. ‘Go to school,’ I say, but he won’t go 
and we can’t do anything with him.” 

“Why doesn’t he like going to school?” 

“Well, you see, it was in March, the day after the festival, I 
tell him, “There’s nothing to eat in the house to-day so you just 
get out and get what you can to eat.” I told him plain and 
drove him out. But in the afternoon he comes back crying like 
anything and says he’s got a headache, so I puts him to bed. 
Well, the next day school begins again, but he says that he ain’t 
going, and he don’t go. You see his father never had a bit of 
learning and don’t know one letter from another, which bothers 
him now, so he said he’d like the boy to go through the ele- 
mentary school at least. So we send him to school, though we’re 
very poor, till he got into the third standard. But there, when 
you're poor you can’t bring your children up as you want to.” 

Here she began to blow up the fire, which was only smoking. 
From what the woman had said Eiichi guessed the meaning of 
the boy’s confession. He was at a loss to know how to help them, 
however. 

“He got as far as the third standard then?” he asked. 

“Well, to go on with what I was telling you,” said the 


® 


106 BEFORE THE DAWN 


woman, “he got into the fourth standard, but no sooner had — 
he got in than he gave it up. Really he’s a year behind, ’cause 
I sent him out as a minder one year.” 

Eiichi was torn between two inclinations. One was to break 
away from this horrible place and throw philanthropic principles 
to the winds; to run back to his house with its beautiful mats and 
read philosophy. He heard an inward voice saying to him, “If 
you meddle in these matters in the end you yourself will be little 
removed from common.” But at the same time there was an- 
other inward voice saying, “Kindness is the salt of life. The 
social organism demands a sacrifice for the sake of the living.” 

“I hope you won’t mind my asking you where you live,” said 
the woman. 

“Where I live?” said Eiichi. ‘Oh, not very far from here. 
. . » That boy of yours,—what’s he doing now?” - | 

“Well, as a matter of fact, he’s not doing anything in par- 
ticular. Sometimes he runs errands for his father and sometimes 
he helps me in the winding. You know the barber down on the 
other side of Fukushima Bridge. Well, he says ‘Why not let 
him come here as apprentice?” and we thought of sending him 
there, you see. But then we didn’t know whether he’d have 
patience to learn the business. But won’t you sit down a bit 
instead of standing there?” 

She lifted the lid of the pan to attend to the barley, which 
had begun boiling, and then took a pail and went outside,— 
probably to get some water. 

Eiichi was thinking that he should like to get away from 
this gloomy quarter. 

“The barber?” he said. ‘That would be good . . . I must 
be going now as I have some other business . . . so I'll take 
my leave. Please don’t scold the boy after I’ve gone.” 

He said nothing more about paying for the rice. 

“Thank you very much. Come and have a little talk an- 
other time, do—though it’s a poor place to come to.” 

The woman said this while standing outside the door. 

Eiichi looked towards the sick man. ‘‘Good-bye,” he said. 
“Take care of your health.” But inwardly he deprecated the 
meaningless hypocrisy of the remark. 

“Thank you very much for your kindness. Good-bye. It’s 
a poor place, sir, but if you could come sometimes fora talk .. . 


A VISIT TO THE SLUMS 107 


“Thank you. I will come again,” said Eiichi. 

Eiichi loved the poor in his inmost heart, but he thought that 
amid such surroundings a man must become stunted. 

As he emerged from the alley it seemed to him like a dream. 
On Shiroyama a red light was burning,—the weather-signal. 
At the corner of Fukushima Honcho he met the servant Kichi- 
saburo and they returned together, but Eiichi did not speak to 
him. 

After supper, according to his promise, Eiichi went to call 
on Tsuruko. 


CHAPTER XII 
At the Gate 


ARR RRR RK KK KKK KE 


IICHI was waiting quietly outside the gate of his father’s 
15 house. He had again exceeded the time allowed for 
staying out. He had already knocked at the gate many 

times, but no one had opened it and he was tired out. 

Stepping back to look along the street, the whole of Toku- 
shima seemed to be asleep, which was quite natural since it was 
past twelve o’clock. He had been late three times since his return 
from ‘Tokyo. ‘Two days before, on Sunday evening, when he 
attended the meeting-house, he had got back just as Kichisaburo 
was going the rounds of the house to see that there was no danger 
of fire, and was about to shut the gate. ‘Then, on the Saturday 
before, he was also late, so that this made the third time. 

This evening he had a reason for being late. He had been 
to call on Tsuruko, for on Sunday, returning from the meeting- 
house, ‘I’suruko had told him that her brother Tokiyuki had 
come back, and had asked him to call and see him within the 
next few days. 

Eiichi looked up at the sky and thought that the stars too 
appeared sleepy. ‘That was because he was sleepy himself. He 
remembered that his father had said that he would not have the 
gate opened after nine o’clock, and his father had come back 
from Tokyo that evening. ‘That was why he had taken the 
precaution of knocking softly on the gate. He thought that it 
would be a pity to disturb Kichisaburo in his slumbers, and as 
it was about eleven o’clock when he returned from Tsuruko’s 
house, he had bethought himself and did not knock any more, 
but walked for an hour in the direction of Suketo Bridge. 
He had set out with the idea that he would punish himself by 
walking some fifteen or twenty miles there and back, but mid- 
way he had become tired. It occurred to him also that he 
would not like to appear on the morrow among the scholars with 

108 


AT THE GATE 109 


sleepy eyes, and even if he did not give any lessons, he must 
not teach them to be heavy-eyed in the daytime. In spite of dis- 
turbing Kichisaburo, therefore, he went back to knock again. 
He must sleep, he thought; and, indeed, he was sleepy. Even 
the stars looked sleepy. 

Eiichi drew near the gate and thought that he would knock 
just once more and see. He had just doubled up his fist to 
strike when the idea came into his head that every blow he gave 
on the door would be like a nail driven into his father’s heart. 
The idea of arousing his father’s anger, also, seemed to him 
like the torture of the crucifixion. He began even to dread the 
sound of his clogs on the paving stones, and sank down in a 
Squatting position for a moment under the letter-box. 

Why was it, he asked himself, that he felt such diffidence in 
the presence of his father? Why had he to crouch down in 
the shivering cold by the side of the gate of his own house? 
Had he not certainly the right to demand kindness from his own 


father? . . . But how kindly dear Tsuruko had received him 


that evening! Her brother was coming back from Muya, but 
he did not come, at which Eiichi was glad. The old lady and 
gentleman went to bed, and afterwards Tsuruko had taken 
him to her study. How happy he was! He knew the manners 
of present-day schoolgirls. But Tsuruko? .. . No, no. More- 
over, if he once fell in love with ‘Tsuruko, he would not care 
even if she were a careless schoolgirl. ‘Tsuruko’s circumstances 
preyented her from being thoughtless, however. 

When they were talking about European history, seated by 


‘the side of her desk, he was surprised to find how their hands 
ame together unconsciously. How delightful it was! Then 


the talk drifted to Tsuruko’s past and they both wept. When 
she threw herself on his knees weeping he was ashamed and yet 
pleased. 

Tsuruko had reason to be sad. It must be hard for her to 
act as servant to her adopted grandfather and grandmother. 
Women were of weak spirit. If her father and mother had 
not ended their lives in that way ‘Tsuruko would not have been 
a bit different from other people. Probably she shrank back 
trembling when her friends began to talk about their lives. He 
himself experienced a shock when anybody was referred to as 
the son of a concubine. . 


110 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Tsuruko had become a Christian and had lost some of her 
friends. But the ladies of the church had kindly admitted 
her into their circle and she was not at all lonely, she said. “That 
must be some comfort to her. He himself was fond of the 
society of such ladies, and he was pleased with ‘T'suruko because 
she had been admitted to their circle. In Japan it was not clear 
whether a wife was a servant or a mere child-bearer. But a 
woman who led a hard life bringing up a large family was cer- 
tainly a gracious sight. ‘The beautiful mixture of suffering and 
duty made her a lovable object. 

He wished to love Tsuruko; he did love her. He dedicated 
himself wholly to the love of her . . . But how meaningless it 
was! He, who did not know the meaning of life, was in love. 
Was man an objectless creation? He must have an object, or 
of what purpose was his evolution? How meaningless was the 
theory of evolution! What evolution was there about their 
own lives? Chance! Ah, chance! Destiny!—Man had no 
authority to call these evolution. Man was merely adrift in 
the colds waters of the sea. In loving Tsuruko he was only 
drifting another foot. Life could be said to be objectless,— 
no, more than that,—to be blind. If he was asked whether he 
would rather die because life was objectless or love Tsuruko, 
then, of course, he would rather share Tsuruko’s sorrows. But 
it would be meaningless for him to pretend to be a lover and 
to enjoy love. Love for him could only result in tears; the end 
could only be for them to die together, and then love would 
be ended. But what was love? ... 

Yes, but love like that evening’s, which had come into exist- 
ence so suddenly, as in Shakespeare’s ‘Twelfth Night, was mere: 
foolishness. Was love really like that? But Tsuruko had taken 
him prisoner; he had no will of his own left. He had never 
really expected to have such a beautiful sweetheart... But 
love, was it not all foolishness? Was he going to run love’s 
long race for the sake of a passing pleasure? Spiritual love? 
It was merely the dream of some ballad-maker. Worthless! 

He was tired of it,—tired of love. He had thought enough 
about it for the time. ‘The idea was repulsive to him now. 
One moment’s pleasure! Love was pain; and the awakening 
was agony. No, love was not for him; it made his head ache. 
To love a woman was, after all, nothing but to be greedy for 


AT THE GATE 111 


painful pleasure. Were wives only for breeding? That was 
meaningless,—to beget children merely for the sake of begetting 
children. ‘They were to sleep with and embrace. But if one 
slept soundly, what need for beauty to sleep with? Buddha! 
The teaching of Hinayana! The extinction of individuality! 
Everything Nirvana! He himself nothing but a wave in the 
ocean! How he would like to plunge into the cool depths of 
the dark blue sea! Mankind! He was tired of it all. Ah, ah! 
He would like to bite his tongue till he died. To live was but 
to scent the odour of aristocracy, and he detested scents. He 
was a Socialist. Then Nirvana and death. Only this time for 
Socialism. . . . 

He sprang to his feet and rained violent blows with his fist 
on the finely grained wood of that beautiful door till it seemed 
that the tiles would fall from the roof, 

But there was no response. The world was asleep. Even 
the dead were asleep and would not rise up out of their graves. 
The world seemed passing from one sleep to another. He made 
another still more violent attack on the door, but still there was 
no answer. Looking up the stars seemed sullen. From the 
eaves of the house opposite first one sparrow and then another 
flew out and hid themselves under the eaves of a house five doors 
away. He had awakened the sparrows, he thought, but not his 
father. His sin was great. But the sins of the capitalists were 
greater because they had constructed houses with walls and gates 
which did not allow the people free access. ‘The sins of the 
Christian priests were very great. ‘They jabbered about “Re- 
joice in Christ!” While they were contentedly mixing up their 
traditional religion with sheer worldliness, aristocratism, capital- 
ism, and robbery, was it likely that the kingdom of God would 
come? He could endure his agony no longer. Buddha! Nir- 
vana! Fever! His tears were frozen. But he had too much 
courage to die. Let them beware. The glare of giants? The 
roar of lions? Yes, from now on it was revolution. He 
would attain his freedom. Let him be guaranteed eternal life; 
if not, then death. Tears of agony fell unconsciously. People 
might not know that the universe was awakening a revolt in his 
breast. While he was crouching there people in the slums of 
Fukushima, down by the waterside, were cursing God. Life’s_ 
cruelty! ‘Yet, in spite of all, he wished to live . . . Gentle as | 


112 BEFORE THE DAWN 


he was he thought he had power to shake the stars from the 
heavens and to drive back the wide ocean, It was not for him to 
waste his time standing upon ceremony. Evil often had more 
wisdom than goodness. He must knock on the gate. It would 
be the tocsin of revolution. It would be a Buddhist revolution. 
. . « The essence of Buddhism was in the teaching of Hina- 
yana; the Mahayana was like a slug that melted in the rain. 
Buddha’s revolution was a failure. It started a fire in the future 
world, not in the present one. ‘The Brahmin delusion was a 
good one, but as they did not deny the existence of separate 
Indian States they must be considered as foolish. The Japanese 
priests were even bigger fools. Mahayana! ‘The Body of the 
Law! State religion! The Hongwanji! Even foolishness 
has a limit. ‘They were engaged in licking the boots of the 
Government, when Buddha had taught them that life was a 
series of blind existence, finally ending in Nirvana. He would 
begin from now a great Buddhist revolution. The vulgar crowd 
would have no right to take part in it, but it would have a re- 
sponse in the spiritual world. Certainly there were not many 
people who knew that he was living in that small town of 
Tokushima, but how many people knew that Jesus was, living in 
Nazareth? Revolution! 

Ejiichi’s rebellious spirit made his whole body shake. ‘Trem- 
bling he took off his right clog, his fist not giving a sufficiently 
resolute sound, and hammered at the door. 

The door at the entrance opened with a rattle and Entichi 
waited to see who it was that was going to open the gate. It 
was his father, with a candlestick in his hand. His father 
examined him attentively as he entered the gate, and then, with- 
out speaking, struck Eiichi a blow on the cheek with his fist. 

Eiichi, choking, shut himself into his own room. ‘There he 
sat, leaning on his desk and gazing vacantly into space while 
the tears fell. ‘The fit of weeping soothed his spirit, but after a 
little time he grew tired of crying and, wiping away his tears, 
he looked up. ‘There was a picture of Carlyle hanging on the 
wall, displaying his sullen face in profile. Etichi thought of 
Sartor Resartus. He did not care for the weakness of the love- 
lorn school of philosophy of which Goethe was the type, but he 
could not help weeping over his own sad fate and the hell of 
capitalism. He himself, moreover, was merely digging in an 


af > 


AT THE GATE 113 


eternal void. Ah, that eternal void! What was there to fill the 
void? He was only a shadow, and had bad dreams. Life seemed 
to him like one of his dreams. 

What a trouble everything was! His father had come into 
the Niimi house as an adopted son, and had abandoned his true 
wife for Ejichi’s mother. Then when Eiichi’s mother had died 
he had taken up with Umé. What a busy life he led! During 
that time he had become a member of the Diet, then a secretary 
in the House of Peers, and then he had left the Diet to become 
Mayor. Even after he became Mayor he continued busy. He 
had to build a new house, accept bribes, and humour Umé’s 
whims. During that time also he must become supervisor of 
the ‘Tokushima Railway, and that kept him still busier. Some- 
times workmen got injured. . . . That poor labourer and his 
family of Tokushima Honcho! If his father had been careful 
while he was holding the post of supervisor of the line that 
terrible accident would not have happened. Should he take 
care of the people that his father neglected? Could he, even 
when at a loss to know what to do with his own life, become a 
comforter of the poor? Instantly! His body was on fire. For 
a moment he wished to drink deep to intoxication to escape his 
agony,—to clasp a woman and kiss her to death. Ah, for that 
moment, that instant! Dreams, dreams, all dreams! — 
Shadows! —Emptiness! 

Thought-wearied, there came a kind of ecstatic smile’on his 
face at the blindness of the world and his own vacuity. ‘The 
lotos blooms white in the mud.” But that was a part of the use- 
lessness and futility of life! It was merely an enigmatical per- 
version. . . . But how lovable Tsuruko was! Lovable? Very 
well, he would grasp reality and withdraw himself a moment in 
dreams of love. A moment’s pleasure would suffice. If he dis- 
appeared, he disappeared; if he perished, he perished; if he were 
dashed to pieces, then, he would be dashed to pieces and destroyed. 
Ah, how he would like to kill himself—kill himself again and 
again! 

Ah, but Tsuruko, Tsuruko! Would she hide him in the mys- 
tery of love? Would she love him? She was lovable, beautiful, 
pure. And then, if she became his, she would rescue him. “Love 
me, love me,” his spirit cried; “love me body and soul. I am 
mad at times now; if you do not love me I shall go completely 


114 BEFORE THE DAWN 


mad. I should be contented—quite contented—to go mad for 
your sake. All the world is mad, and if I became mad for your 
sake I should be the king of madmen. Love! I am suddenly 
imprisoned in the snares of love and I consent to my imprison- 
ment. Love is madness, after all, and to get Tsuruko I will 
go mad. Oh, happiness! Nirvana! Woman is my God! My 
father’s brute force! Can I accept such savagery? Yes, I too 
will adopt it. And yet, for my father to strike me in that way! 
But I will not think of it any more. No, I will not think of it. 
Only give me love! But Iam weary of itall. . . .” 

Weariness invited Eiichi to dreams. He stretched his legs 
under the desk and sank back to slumber. But a creaking sound 
caused him to open his eyes suddenly and there at the entrance 
was Umé again. She had come upon him unawares. His pulse 
quickened, but it could not be helped now. His head drooped 
and he leant on the desk. 

“Your father says you have to go to bed, Master Eiichi,” said 
Umé in a way that set his teeth on edge. 

But Eiichi only replied ““Thank you” in a gentle tone. He 
must go downstairs. Life, however he considered it, was less 
earnest than it looked. Must he sleep now? How useless was 
sleep! Sleep? What nonsense! Must they deprive him, awake 
and raving mad, of consciousness and life and shove him in the 
black folds of the bedclothes for a few hours? Well, he didn’t 
care. 

He got up and began to go downstairs. 

“T don’t think the shutters are shut upstairs,” called Umé. 

“‘She’s got me there,” thought Eiichi, and he went back across 
the room and began to shut the shutters. “Tsuruko’s room still 
had a faint light in it and the shadow on the screen was probably 
Tsuruko’s. “What is she doing up so late?” he thought. At the 
sound of the shutters being shut Tsuruko also pushed back the 
screen and commenced to shut her shutters. 

That moment filled Eiichi with happiness. He went down- 
stairs to the entrance. LEiichi realised that he was mad. “I will 
be mad for a little time where nobody can see me,” he thought. 
He was about to drag the bedclothes out of the cupboard, but 
stopped. “After all I am mad,” he thought. “My father and 
Umé irritate me. Only when my father and Umé are sleeping 
can I stretch out my arms and legs, To-night I will not go to 


AT THE GATE 115 


bed, but try it,—not to-night merely but every night till I die. 
Till I die? No, I will not die.” 

He threw himself down in the dark cupboard and composed 
himself for meditation. 

Meditation? No, that was no use. It would only mean 
weariness, and on the morrow teaching would be a bore. No, 
he would go to sleep and then he might have a dream, even if 
only a faint one. There was no need to go into the inner room; 
he would sleep there. 

So he laid his bedclothes down by the side of Kichisaburo and 
got into bed without taking off his clothes or putting on his 
nightgown. But the bed felt as comfortable as usual, and he 
thought that he would put on his nightgown after all. So he 
got up again and put it on, thinking that at any rate in bed he 
escaped all enemies. Sleep was the final salvation. (Yes, sleep 
was better than love. 


CHAPTER XIll 


The Beggar Woman 
MxM KKK KKH MMH KKH 


IICHI felt that the lack of sympathy between himself and 
kK his father had not been lessened by his father’s reproaches 
and the blow that he had struck him. Besides, he had 
an unpleasant feeling that not only Umé, but his younger brother 
Masunori also despised him as a fool. Eiichi could not help 
feeling depressed when he saw his influence in the household 
reduced, even if he did not trouble himself about his foolish 
young brother accepting the opinions of others without knowing 
the circumstances. This isolation, however, only served to 
arouse his rebellious spirit and caused him to devote more time 
to reading and meditation. Also his thoughts turned increasingly 
on Tsuruko in dreams and in secret. 

For some days his thoughts had been chiefly directed to the 
mechanical and the teleological theories of the universe, and dur- 
ing this time he had not once opened a book, as he thought that 
there was nothing authoritative to be gained from them. Even if 
there were, the course of study that he was pursuing made such 
deep inroads on his health that he felt that he had no time to 
waste on books. FEiichi’s ill health, together with the pressure 
exercised upon him by his family, had effects upon him which 
may be easily conjectured. 

Eiichi, it may be said, was hardly alive. Though still moving, 
his movements were desultory. When he had time he went to 
see Tsuruko or his younger sister in the country, and on Sundays 
he attended church. Otherwise it might be said that all his 
movements were purposeless and casual, 

He had no special reason for going to church. It might be 
thought that it was to see T’suruko play the organ, but that was 
not all. ‘There were times when he did not think of Tsuruko 


at all. One reason was to see if the preaching of the pastor on 
116 


THE BEGGAR WOMAN Biv 


Christ could not arouse in his heart a fervour equal to that of 
Christ’s. Another was that he had a peculiar fancy for crowded 
places, such as the station, or the theatre, or the school, or the 
church. Of such places he was very fond,—of studying people’s 
faces and dress, ‘Then, again, he was not happy at home and he 
had nowhere to go to amuse himself; so he just went to church 
to while the time away. 

Eiichi did not go to church alone; he took his younger brother 
Masunori with him. He was of the opinion that the teaching of 
Christ was very good for children and women. Umé protested 
against the child being taken to church and his father got angry. 
The boy himself was puzzled. ‘This also widened the breach 
between Eiichi and his father. Also his visits to his stepmother 
in the country were not regarded with favour by his father and 
Umé. In these circumstances any improvement in their rela- 
tions became more and more difficult. Lately Eiichi had no longer 
joined his father at his meals. 

One day Eiichi, coming back from school, noticed by the 
side of the gate a beggar’s barrow in which was seated an ugly 
child of about eleven, who seemed from his attitude to be unable 
to stand. Eiichi went in at the gate, watched by the child, and 
was about to open the side gate to go through the garden into 
the house, when a beggar woman of about fifty-two or -three 
suddenly came out. Her back was bent and her head hanging 
forward, and she carried.a bowl and some brown paper in her 
hand. 

“T wanted some tea,”’ she said, “‘but the good lady . . .” 

Eiichi thought that the woman was rather bold, but then it was 
evident that she wanted something and if she wanted something 
he would give it to her. 

*“Halloa!” he said. “Do you want some tea? Come with 
me if you want some tea.” 

“Come with the young master? ‘Thank’ee, thank’ee greatly. 
I asked the good lady, but she scolded me and said I ain’t got no 
right to go through the side gate. ‘The young master’s kindness 
makes me weep.” 

Her head was covered with an old towel and her face was 
brown and pock-marked. She walked on tiptoe, with bent 
back, from the side gate round to the back kitchen entrance, her 
thin lips moving all the time in a ceaseless flow of talk. Of 


118 BEFORE THE DAWN 


course people must move their lips when they talk, but she moved 
them so unceasingly that her terrible fluency in speech was dis- 
tressing. “This beggar woman, who seemed like the beggar of 
romance, struck Exichi with surprise. 

He went into the kitchen to see if there was any hot water, but 
on looking round found that there was none. ‘Then he went 
into the back room and brought out the kettle, as there was al- 
ways a fire in the brazier there, with water boiling on it. When 
he came back he found the woman squatting down on the ground 
outside the door, and the maidservant, with her bulging switch 
of hair, who was sitting there engaged in needlework, staring 
at her in astonishment. 

“Come in here,” said Eiichi, going towards the beggar and 
standing on the step. “Come in and [ll give you some hot 
water.” 

“It’s no place for me, your honour,” she said, “‘t’s no place 
for me,” and do what he would she would not come in. 

There being nothing else to do Eiichi put on some clogs and 
went out to the beggar, carrying the kettle. ‘The beggar cov- 
ered the bowl with the brown paper and held it up to receive the 
hot water. 

“What a strange thing to do!” said Eiichi. 

“Tt ain’t right, your honour, to take your hot water in this 
dirty bowl; it ain’t right,” and he could not persuade her to re- 
move the brown paper and let him put the hot water into the bowl 
direct. Certainly, he thought, this is the beggar of tradition, 
and although he felt rather foolish he poured the hot water on 
top of the brown paper and carried the kettle in. The beggar 
also went away. 

Then it occurred to ‘Eiichi that perhaps the beggar wanted 
some money,—that the asking for hot water was only a hint 
that she wanted money. If she wanted money she should have 
it,—as much as she wanted, and he went out quickly by the back 
way, round by the garden gate. There he had a surprise. The 
woman was sitting down on the ground by the side of the garden 
gate, and in front of her was a basket on which she had placed 
a small square piece of board. On the board was written:— 

““This person wishes to return to her native place and begs for 
gifts to help her on her journey.” 


33 


————2—— 


THE BEGGAR WOMAN E19 


“T ain’t worth your notice, your honour,” said the beggar. 
“T weeps for your kindness, your honour.” 

“Do you want some money?” said Eiichi. “If you want some 
Ill give you this,” and he took out a one-yen note from his 
bosom. 

“Young master, did your honour say that you'd give this 
wandering beggar a yen? ‘Thank ye kindly, thank ye kindly. 
Your honour brought out the kettle and gave me some hot water, 
and now your honour says ye’ll give me a yen. I ain’t worthy 
of it, I ain’t worthy of it.” 

The beggar stood up suddenly, took the board and the basket, 
and went towards the barrow. Her appealing voice, which yet 
had something of doubt and surprise in it, as though she felt that 
she waS being laughed at, made him think again that this was 
certainly the beggar of tradition. Her appearance was not at- 
tractive, but he did not wish to judge her by her appearance. 

“Then take this,” he said, and he went after her into the 
road and offered her a silver coin. 

“T ain’t worthy of your kindness, your honour. I weep for 
your kindness, your honour. Your honour said you’d give me 
a yen, but beggars of my sort, your honour, they never take so 
much.” 

She put the basket into the barrow, took hold of the handles 
and commenced to pull it along. But the child in the barrow 
pulled a very disappointed face, and seizing hold of one of the 
supports of the cover, commenced to shake it and to make a great 
fuss, evidently to make the woman take the money. 

“Don’t you want it?” said Eiichi, making a last effort to get 
her to take it. ‘You came begging, so isn’t it right to take 
money when it’s offered to you?” 

The barrow stopped after it had gone two or three yards and 
the woman came back. 

“T ain’t worthy of your honour’s kindness,” said the woman, 
kneeling down on the ground and holding out the basket. 

Eiichi was astonished at the woman’s behaviour. 

“Tt’s only a trifle,” he said, “but please take it,” and he dropped 
the silver coin into the basket with a slight smile and went in at 
the gate. At heart he was dissatisfied with his charity, but he 
went up to his room with an unconcerned air and sat down 


120 BEFORE THE DAWN 


in front of his desk. ‘What shall I do now,” he thought, and 
he took up a small looking-glass from the side of his desk and 
looked at himself. Was Tsuruko in love with that face? Yet 
it was a beautiful face, he told himself. If he met a woman 
with such a face he would fall in love with her himself. 

Such thoughts as these ran through Eiichi’s head as he looked 
at himself in the mirror. He had been examining himself thus 
for some time when he heard the voices of Kichisaburo and the 
beggar woman at the gate. “Is the beggar still there?” he 
thought, and. listened attentively to hear what was being said. 

The beggar was probably loth to abandon the idea of getting 
the one yen and was talking to Kichisaburo, the man servant, who 
had gone out at Umé’s orders, just as Eiichi had gone in, to 
see if the beggar had gone. 

“T ain’t worthy of your honour’s kindness,” the beggar was 
saying, “only could ye let me see the young master again? If ye’d 
kindly let me set my poor old eyes on him again to thank him. 
He was very kind to this poor old wandering beggar,” and she 
bowed again and again, her left hand almost touching the 
ground, and speaking ever so pitifully. 

“What's it all about?” said Kichisaburo, looking down at the 
beggar. “You've got some money, ain’t ye? Why don’t you 
clear out? The young master’s gone into the house.” 

“His honour says ‘T’ll give ye a yen,’ but I says it ain’t for the 
like of me to take it, although . . .” 

“The young master said he’d give you a yen?—to a beggar 
like you? Nonsense! The young master here’s not in his right 
senses, you know.” 

Nevertheless at heart Kichisaburo was rather surprised. 

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” he went on. “Do 
you want to get that yen after all? I ain’t going to be your 
messenger. You got some money, didn’t you?” 

“T told his honour I couldn’t take the one yen. “Then [ll 
give ye twenty sen,’ his honour says, and his honour. gives me 
twenty sen and I take it. But my child he says, ‘Ain’t we going 
home? How can we get home without money?’ he says. ‘We 
got to go begging from house to house,’ he says. ‘Why didn’t 
you take the one yen?’ he says. ‘Ain’t it the same whether we 


get the money at one house or a hundred?’ he says. ‘If we 


don’t take the money when it’s given us,’ he says, ‘shan’t we 


THE BEGGAR WOMAN 121 


suffer for it afterwards?’ he says. Ain’t it possible for ye tc 
get the young master to come out again just once?” and the beg- 
gar woman went on bowing. 

“The young master’s gone into the house,” said Kichisaburo, 
and he set his left arm akimbo and looked up and down the 
street, hardly taking any notice of the beggar except to glance 
down at her now and then in a very haughty manner. 

“T ain’t worthy of it, but if I could just see the young master 
again... ‘Ill give this beggar a yen,’ he says. Please, Mr. 
Servingman, please call the young master again.” 

But Kichisaburo was engaged in looking along the street again. 
Just then he saw a very fine gentleman coming along, attired in 
a frock coat and carrying a stick. He realised that the master 
was returning and he began to use stronger measures to get rid 
of the beggar. 

“You're always saying you’re going to your own part of the 
country,’ he said, “and yet you’ve spent a good many days 
loitering about Tokushima. I know you. Ain’t you been here 
a month? ... . And didn’t you steal something the other day 
down by the Terajima ironworks and get kicked out by the 
workmen? You want too much, you do. You’ve had twenty 
sen. Ain’t it enough? You’ve got something, so just you clear 
out. Talk about getting a yen, indeed! Get along! Get 
along!” 

- But before Kichisaburo had ended the beggar woman was down 
on her knees on the ground, bowing low. ‘The master of the 
house, the Mayor of Tokushima, was approaching. Kichisaburo 
felt slightly confused. He wrinkled up the corners of his eyes, 
bared his projecting teeth, and smiled. Umé, who had opened 
the screens at the entrance and had been peeping out, now 
opened them wider and put her head out. His Worship the Mayor 
had at last arrived on the scene. Kichisaburo gave him a re- 
spectful greeting. 

‘‘What’s the matter, Kichisaburo?”’ he asked. 

“The young master gave her twenty sen and she has the cheek 
to take advantage of this and say she wants a yen and won’t go 
away. ‘This woman’s got a bad character for doing that sort of 
thing. The other day she was stealing something down by the 
Terajima ironworks and got beaten by the workmen, she did.” 

“Ts she crying?” 


122 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“I don’t know whether she’s crying or not. That’s her way 


of getting money out of people.” 

The maidservant came cut of the kitchen and stuck her head 
out of the garden gate to see what was going on. The master 
of the laundry next door also came out, and the wife of Mr. 
‘Tsunoda opposite opened the screen an inch to peep at the scene. 

““Mother, mother, let’s go,” screamed the child in the barrow. 

“Where do you think you are?” said Kichisaburo, who felt 
his authority strengthened by the presence of the Mayor. ‘This 
ain’t no place for sleeping. Just take yourself off. If I finds 
you loitering about Pll call a policeman.” 

But the beggar woman showed no sign of moving. 

“Get a couple of sen from the house and give it to her, 
Kichisaburo,” said the Mayor, and walked in. 

Kichisaburo addressed the master of the laundry next door. 

“Fancy giving two sen to a thing like that!” he said. 

The master of the laundry looked queer. ‘‘What’s all the 
row about?” he asked. 

“Why, the young master is so kind-hearted, you know, and 
this creature had the cheek to take advantage of him. Without 
meaning anything the young master showed her a yen, I suppose, 
and so she began saying, ‘Give me that! Give me that!’ She 
wants a lot, she does. And you see she’d already got twenty 
sen.” 

“Oh, twenty sen, eh?” 

The Mayor had now gone and the maidservant brought out 
two sen in coppers. 

“You're to give her this,” she said, handing the coppers to 
Kichisaburo, “and send her away, and if she won’t go then 
you're to call a policeman.” She laid special stress on calling a 
policeman. Then seeing the laundryman, she greeted him and 
he returned the greeting. 

““What’s she been doing?” he asked. 7 

“Well, you see, it’s this way. She came in with a bowl and a 
piece of brown paper, and opened the side gate without saying 
as much as “By your leave,’ and came round to the back door and 
squatted down on the ground and asked for some tea. It gave 
me quite a turn, it did, but the mistress came out and told me to 
send her away, so I got her to go away, but the young master— 
he’s so kind you know. . . .” | 


THE BEGGAR WOMAN 123 


“Um!” 

The maidservant was going on to tell all about it when 
Umé’s voice was heard calling her from the entrance and she 
went in without even saying good-day to the laundryman. 

The talkative Kichisaburo took the place of the maidservant. 

“This creature, you know,” he said, “she got a hiding from 
the workmen down at the Terajima ironworks the other day. 
They said she’d been stealing something. She’s a bad lot.” 

“Hm!” answered the laundryman. “Hasn’t this beggar been 
a long time in Tokushima? ... The other day ... Let me 
see, when was it? Some fifteen or twenty days ago, she was 
down at the western landing stage.” 

The beggar woman, by some impulse, jumped to her feet 
almost before the laundryman had finished. 

“You wretch of a servingman,” she said, “Tl serve you 
out,—telling everybody about me. I'll serve you out, see if I 
don’t,’ and she walked off roughly to the barrow, where the 
child set up a howl. 

At this frontal attack by the beggar, Kichisaburo was taken 
aback and could say nothing. His face got red and he was very 
much confused. He laughed nervously and looked at the laun- 
dryman. ‘The laundryman also laughed constrainedly. Sud- 
denly Kichisaburo remembered something and he ran after the 
barrow. 

“Here,” he said. ‘‘Here’s two sen,” and he threw them into 
the barrow and went back to the gate. 

But the beggar woman, hardly before the wheels had made 
three revolutions, took the two sen out of the barrow. 

“TY didn’t ask for this money,” she eried, with a backward 
look, and therewith she threw it on the ground. 

“Lor?!” said Kichisaburo, on seeing this act of self-denial, 
“here’s a beggar that won’t take what’s given her. Well, I am 
blowed,” and he gave a laugh such as he would have given if a 
thorn had pricked his finger. 

“What an extraordinary creature!” said the laundryman. 

Eiichi, who had heard nearly all that had happened from 
the start, found something inconsistent in the beggar’s behaviour 
and threw the mirror aside. While he was thinking vacantly 
he heard the servant downstairs saying, ““[he young master 
shouldn’t have shown the yen to the beggar.” He felt that he 


124 BEFORE THE DAWN 


wanted to say something in his own defence, and he was sur- 
prised at the complacency with which he regarded his act of 
kindness. Charity that was not thorough, he thought, was quite 
useless. He felt pity for the lot of beggars and tears rose in- 
stinctively in his eyes. Moreover, if he abandoned his father’s 
house and led the life of a wandering beggar like a madman— 
absurd though the idea seemed considering his present position— 
he would experience a fate of that kind. 

He went out on the top of the landing. 

“‘Kichisaburo, has the beggar gone!” he asked. 

“Yes, she’s just turning the corner over there.” 

“The opposite corner?” said Eiichi, and he ran downstairs 
quickly and out at the entrance. His own clogs were not at the 
door, however, and he had to go round hastily to the back. 
His haste made Umé think that there was something the matter 
and she came out of the back room. 

“Your father says you musn’t give yen notes to beggars,” she 
said. 

But he rushed out at the gate without having heard her appar- 
ently. “Cruel! Cruel!” he thought. “Capitalism is cruel. 
Although Tolstoy decried charity out of his own experience, I 
will give all I have. If I give all then I shall have nothing left 
to give and, having nothing, charity will require nothing further 
of me. It is the fault of society. I don’t care if the beggar is a _ 
cheat. I will give her money.” 

In this perturbed state of mind he ran after the beggar. He 
caught her up just on Fukushima Bridge, flung a one-yen note 
into the basket and ran off. The laundryman and Kichisaburo 
were still standing in front of the gate, so he did not go home, 
but turned off and walked along the street where Tsuruko lived. 
There he gave himself up to weeping with a grief which 
ordinary people would be unable to fathom; but the tears were 
comforting to his soul. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A Love Scene 


RRRRRRRKRRKKRKKKKH 


IICHI then went to call on Tsuruko and found her at 
kK home, but as she was busy in the kitchen she sent him 
upstairs into her study until she had finished. When she 

came upstairs he asked her where her grandmother was. 

“Oh, grandpa and grandma are out to-day,” she answered, 
“and Pm keeping house alone. It was very kind of you to 
come, but we shan’t be able to see each other much longer like 
this. I have to go to Hiroshima at the end of June.” 

There was something of sorrow but also something of pride 
in her tone. 

“Really? At the end of June?” said Eiichi. ‘Why, that’s 
only another month.” 

“Yes,” she replied, and placing a cushion by the side of her 
desk she asked him to sit down. 

“‘And what are you going to do at Hiroshima?” he asked. 

“Go to the kindergarten.” 

“Oh, to study?” 

“Yes, the kindergarten training school.” 

“That will be nice. Children are such dear little things.” 

Suddenly ‘Tsuruko, with a strange expression, began looking 
attentively at Eiichi’s face. 

“Have you been crying?” she asked. ‘‘What’s the matter?” 

At once glad and hurt at her discovery, Eiichi only answered 
foyes.> 

“What’s happened? Please do tell me, won’t you?” 

“Well, there’s no harm in telling you, but . . .” 

“Do tell me. Is it something that you’d rather not tell 
me?” 

As she spoke Tsuruko slid back the screen in front of her and 
looked out into the garden, as she thought she heard a footstep. 

125 


126 BEFORE THE DAWN 


But there was no one there, and shutting it again she turned to 
him with shining eyes. 

“Won't you tell me? ... If you loved me you would,” 
she added, her spirit overflowing with courage. 

Eiichi was melted by the word “love.” 

“Tsuruko, do you love me?” he asked, and he drew near 
to take her hand. ‘Shall I really open my heart to you?” 

“Please do.” 

Nohalhds7? 

“Yes, please.” 

“Will you really listen to me?” and he gave a nervous 
laugh. | 

“Of course I will. Why shouldn’t I?” and she kissed Eiichi’s 
hand as she spoke. 

Eiichi returned the kiss. 

“Well, Tsuruko, I will tell you,” he said. “And yet I’m so 
ashamed,” and he hung his head. “Well, just now, I... 
Shall I tell you or not?” 

“Please tell me. What was it? You haven’t got even your 
usual spirits to-day. What happened just now?” 

“T gave a yen to a beggar. It was thinking of that beggar 
that made me cry.” 

“Yes? That was very kind of you.” 

But Tsuruko did not seem particularly impressed. She only 
continued to gaze kindly into his eyes and to hold his hand more 
firmly, while her other hand also sought his. At first Eiichi was 
ashamed to meet the beautiful Tsuruko’s gaze, and he lowered 
his eyes. But the fascination of her look was too strong for 
him, and his eyes again met hers. The more he looked at her 
the more beautiful she became, with her cheeks softer than silk 
and of the colour of roses. Why was she so beautiful? En- 
tranced, the two gazed at each other in a delicious silence. 

The vivacious Tsuruko was the first to break the silence. 

“Ts that all?” she asked. ‘“‘Isn’t there something else? 
Please tell me all.” 

“Well, Tsuruko, I . . . I don’t think I shall stay long in my 
father’s house.” 

“Why?” 

SWreell scien 

“Why?” 


A LOVE SCENE 127 


Eiichi, with a strange hesitation, half womanish, half child- 
ish, sought to arouse her sympathies, and she, like a woman, 
sought to show herself sympathetic. 

“You know, I suppose,”’ he said, “about Umé and . . .” 

“Oh, yes, I know. Your father’s . . . What about her?” 

“Well, when I see my father make a companion of a dis- 
reputable woman like that and grieve the heart of my step- 
mother, I can’t bear it.” 

“Yes, but what do you mean to do about it?” 

“That’s what I’m troubled about.” 

“Please sit down.” 

“No, Id rather stand.” 

“Well, let’s stand then.” 

“I want my father to send away that woman. What do you 
think?” 

“I think it would be better not.” 

“Why?” 

“Well, you know they say that St. Augustine was led by his 
concubine to become a believer. Augustine thought of marry- 
ing a wife—a young wife—didn’t he, and while he was con- 
sulting about it the woman whom he had as concubine said that 
even if Augustine forsook her she would not forsake him, and 
she concealed herself in Arabia. It was through this that 
Augustine became a pure saint. I was thinking of that. You 
can’t imagine how much any one who has somebody to love 
feels at peace with the world. If Umé is turned out because 
she is a concubine then your father’s feelings will be hurt and 
there is no knowing what may happen.” 

‘T’suruko spoke with a great show of intelligence, and Eiichi, 
listening to the words of the woman he loved, could hardly con- 
tain his delight. 

“But,” he interposed... . 

“T am a Christian,” went on Tsuruko, “and I adhere strongly 
to the principle of one man, one wife. But even if the man I 
loved sinned with some woman I should never forsake him. I 
should forgive him and follow him even to hell itself to save 
him for Christ. Augustine himself said something like that. 
Again, I believe that if you really love some one it is not only 
one life that you will want to spend with him, but you will 
ardently desire to spend two or three lives with him and with 


128 BEFORE THE DAWN 


him alone. As for your father I don’t think he goes with women 
merely out of love of it. If your father loves Umé,” she said, 
“then all is right, I think.” 

“Do you think so? Is it possible that Platonic love can be 
realised in actual life? But, of course, if everything in this 
world was well ordered we might be able to realise the ideal of 
monogamy.” 

Eiichi murmured this in a low voice. But Tsuruko would not 
listen to his captious arguments. 

Eiichi admired the depth of this bold judgment. Beautiful 
Tsuruko, for some reason, seemed to sparkle. Her eyes as she 
spoke looked larger and brighter. It was impossible not to 
praise her. 

‘““Tsuruko,” he said, “you have a big heart.” 

Tsuruko cast down her eyes under this praise and then again 
met his look. 

“But I know how you feel,” she said. 

“Do you?” he said, and sudden tears welled into his eyes. 
“Ah, Tsuruko, I’m tired of this world.” 

“Why?” 

“My father’s conduct . .. Also I have become a’ riddle to 
myself.” 

“You? Are you tired of this world, even with me here?” 
and Tsuruko endearingly kissed Etichi’s cold, pale cheeks. 

Unable to resist the tide of love, Eiichi clasped her in a close 
embrace. 

“Tf the bottomless pit were to open for us now,” he whispered, 
“T would not complain.” 

“Nor I,” answered ‘Tsuruko with a sob. Weeping, she 
whispered, “You are miserable, but I also am very unhappy. 
Look at my. life, and you will see how much more fortunate 
you are than I am.” 

“Yes, it is true,” said Eiichi. ‘‘My heart goes out to you. 
I feel as if I could die for you.” 

“Die for me? Oh, happiness! Shall we die together like 
this? Then we should soon reach heaven.” 

“Should we? Ah, but if to die means never to see Tsuruko 
again, I would rather endure all pain and sorrow and remain in 
this world.” 


A LOVE SCENE 129 


“T, too,” and Tsuruko’s gaze was again fixed on Fiichi’s 
beautiful eyes, while Eiichi devoured her with a look that al- 
most seemed to pierce her bosom. 

“Tsuruko,” he repeated, “why are you so beautiful?” and 
again a delicious silence fell on them. 

It was Tsuruko who spoke first. 

“But what do you mean to do?” she asked. 

“What am I going to do? I am going to start a revolu- 
tion,” laughed Eiichi. 

“A revolution? What terrible things you say. Never mind. 
Do as you please. But never forget that the final victory is won 
by love and silence.” 

Eiichi listened to a sermon and kissed Tsuruko’s lips as she 
finished speaking. 

“Yes,” he said gently, “perhaps it is so. But I don’t want 
to imitate those whose minds are like a sheet of white paper. [I 
want to put some colour on life.” 

“Yes, but truth demands that we should not force our will on 
other people, since we are not God. The way to control other 
people is first to control ourselves. I have been thinking about 
this a lot lately. When I think I am going to get sympathy and 
comfort from all the people at the church and from my grand- 
father and grandmother, I never get it, and I feel as if IT could 
hardly bear it. I have had all sorts of trouble about my going 
to Hiroshima. Mrs. Taylor kindly took on herself all the burden 
of the school expenses, but there have been lots of things to worry 
about besides that. When you think that other people are going 
to take trouble about you it always ends in disappointment. And 
then you didn’t come for about a week, and I stopped away 
from school for three days.” 

“Why?” 

“Why? Because I was sick.” 

“What was the matter?” 

“Oh, I only had a headache.” 

“What had you been doing?” 

“T hadn’t been doing anything but there was one trouble on 
top of another, and at last I took to my bed. My family thought 
I was old enough to be married, but my uncle thought I ought 
to go to a higher normal school. I thought of trying to get into 


130 BEFORE THE DAWN 


the Kobé College or the girls’ college at Tokyo. It was awfully 
worrying. I thought if you came in while I was sick you might 
tell me something that would cheer me up. Why didn’t you 
come?” 

“Well, I was out at night too much, and my people thought 
it strange and my father got angry. You know that night that 
Tokoyuki didn’t come back and we sat and talked so late,—my 
father was so angry that he struck me. I thought it was bad 
being out so much at night, so I left it off.” 

“What, that first night you came? How cruel! How cruel! 
Did he really strike you? —strike Eiichi, my dear Eiichi? Why? 
He ought to have struck me instead of you.. Did he scold you 
for being late?” 

ee Viess 

“Well, then, why didn’t you come back and stop at my house? 
They are all old people here and they would be glad to have 
you stop. ‘The next time you are late do come back and stop 
at my house. My grandfather and grandmother are good old 
people, you know, and they would be glad if you stopped every 
night. . . . So you were struck by your father. The next time 
T’ll really take your place.” 

‘“‘Tsuruko, were you absent from school three days? Three 
days?” 

“Yes, I was in bed just three days.) My head was bad. It 
was really very painful.” 

“What a pity I didn’t come! Three days in bed? The next 
time you are sick Pll come and nurse you.” 

“Please do. I shall keep you to your promise. If you 
nursed me I should soon get better. By the way, how are your 
lungs?” 

“My lungs? They’re all right, I expect; but I’m told I must 
be careful with them.” 

“You speak of your illness as though it was somebody else’s.” 

“Well, with this kind of illness you can’t tell yourself.” 

“You promised to come and nurse me when I am sick, so the 
next time you are sick with your lungs or anything Ill hurry 
back and nurse you,—even from Hiroshima, I will. If you send 
me a telegram I’ll come at once.” 

“Really? How delightful. ‘Tsuruko for my nurse! Even 
if I were to die like Lazarus, if you were to come and bid me 


‘ 


A LOVE SCENE 131 


arise I would come to life again at the first sound of your voice.” 

“Come to life? So if I were to die before you I should have 
to come back from the dead when you died.” 

Yes, yes.” 

“Then who would call me back to life?” 

“T would.” 

“So we should both have to come back to life together. And 
after that should we never die again?” 

“If we died we could come back to life again.” 

“What funny things you say. And after that perhaps we 
should go to heaven. Let’s go to heaven together.” 

“Will you show me the way?” 

“Of course I will.” 

““*The woman-soul leadeth us upward and on. Is that it?” 

Thus the two, wandering in the mazes of love, passed from 
vision to vision and spent their time talking of the life to come 
until the dusk crept upon them unawares. In the twilight the 
grandmother returned and greeted Eiichi very kindly. She in- 
vited him to stop to supper and they talked after supper till about 
nine o'clock. ‘Then, with a warm kiss for Tsuruko, Eiichi 
hastened back to his own house. 


CHAPTER XV 
In the Assembly Hall 


MMM MK MMMM MM MMM 


“HE Assembly had been thrown into confusion and was 
a scene of disorder. ‘The President, in a hoarse voice, 
was calling repeatedly for silence, but in vain. Below 
the President’s seat, Kokichi Enomoto, of the Citizens? Party, 
and Sontoku Masuda, of the Saturday Club, were quarrelling 
with each other. Enomoto, who was in charge of a post-office, 
was the leader of the Citizens’ Party. In the centre, Tokihiko 
Honda, the Chief of the Engineering Section of the public 
works, and Haruji Kusumoto, called the “Moving-picture Show- 
man,” were engaged in fisticuffs with Inoué and Yuki of the 
‘Terajima Party, and Mitani, the Independent. Kusumoto repre- 
sented the higher taxpayers in the Tomita licensed quarters, and 
was the rowdy of the Citizens’ Party. His nickname of “Moy- 
ing-picture Showman,” it was said, was owing to the fact that his 
style of speaking was exactly that of a moving-picture showman. 
On the right of the President’s chair, Hatakeyama, the Deputy 
Mayor, and Kitada, of the Saturday Club, had come into col- 
lision. ‘To-day the Assembly was discussing what had been re- 
ferred to in the papers recently—the light railway to the harbour 
and the old affair of the dredging of the River Tomita. The 
organ of the Saturday Club section of the National Party had 
been severely trouncing Mayor Niimi for his crafty dealings, and 
the public gallery was filled with auditors. 

Eiichi also, partly to see how his father handled the Assembly, 
and partly to relieve the monotony of country life, had hidden 
himself in a corner of the gallery. 

From the first it had been clear that there would be a scene 
in the Assembly. ‘The year before an agreement had been made 
between the Citizens’ Party and the Terajima Party in connec- 


tion with a by-election to replace Mr. Hosoda, who belonged to 
132 


IN THE ASSEMBLY, HALL 133 


the Terajima Party. ‘The agreement was that a member of 
the Terajima Party should certainly be elected to fill the vacancy. 
But this year, in February, on the eve of the by-election, the 
Citizens’ Party had suddenly put up Shinsei Hanada, the superin- 
tendent of a geisha call-office in the Tomita licensed quarters, 
and canvassed for him so successfully, with the powerful influ- 
ence of the Seiyukai Party to help them, that they had gained a 
victory. Since then the Terajima Party had been seizing every 
chance to annoy the Mayor, who belonged to the Citizens’ Party. 
No matter whether the proposals made were good or bad, they 
were seized upon as an opportunity for opposing him. If any 
proposal was made in the Assembly by the Citizens’ Party, in- 
stantly the ‘Terajima Party ranged themselves in opposition with- 
out scruple, even saying openly that they opposed it because it 
came from the Citizens’ Party. An extreme instance of this 
was the question of the light railway to the harbour. The Seiyu- 
kai followed its usual practical policy of boosting public works, 
by which all the members of the Assembly profited. Moreover, 
such public works always pleased the electors. But in the case 
of the light railway to the harbour the Seiyukai Party was not 
pleased. 

The question had first been introduced into the Assembly by 
the lawyers’ group,—that is by the Terajima Party. At the 
beginning the proposal to construct the light railway to the har- 
bour was made with a view to its importance in increasing the 
prosperity of the city, and as it was a direct undertaking of 
Tokushima city, it was suggested that it would be as well to 
obtain Government assistance. ‘To this, however, the Seiyukai 
Party was opposed, and the reason was this: The Seiyukai Party 
in Tokushima included many influential men, among them Mr. 
Niimi, the Mayor, and they thought that if they agreed to the 
proposal they would be robbed of most of the pickings by the 
proposers of the scheme,—that is, by the Terajima Party. On 
further study, however, the Seiyukai found that most of the 
landowners belonged to their party, and so they suddenly changed 
their minds and gave their consent to the proposal. 

Again, among the leading spirits of the Assembly there was a 
feeling that, for some reason or other, the dredging of the River 
Tomita was neglected by the city authorities, and it was thought 

~ among the members of the Terajima Party that there was some 


134 BEFORE THE DAWN 


corruption at the back of it. One hundred and forty thousand 
yen had been spent on a dredger, and now, after only two or 
three years had elapsed, it was pronounced useless and kept tied 
up at Funedaiku Island, all owing, it was alleged, to the Mayor’s 
incompetence. In the matter of ordering a new dredger, also, 
there was supposed to be some corruption going on. When the 
dredging of the River Tomita came up on the order of the day, 
therefore, Sontoku Masuda, of the Saturday Club, begged leave 
to ask a question. 

“Mr. President,” he said, “I wish to put a question to the 
Mayor personally in regard to the dredging affair. I desire that 
the Mayor should attend the Assembly.” 

‘The President announced that the Mayor was consulting with 
the members of the Diet on the dredging question and could not 
attend for the moment. 

“Well then,” said Masuda, “I will address my question to 
the Chief of the Engineering Section. I wish to have an ex- 
planation why the dredger, which only recently returned from 
being repaired at Osaka, is kept lying idle at Funedaiku Island.” 

The Chief of the Engineering Section rose to reply. 

“The dredger is not lying idle,” he said. ‘Every day she is 
dredging five to six hundred tons of sand, but such an old-fash- 
ioned contrivance cannot possibly dredge the bed of such a large 
river properly. If there is one day’s rain the debris from the 
upper stream is brought down, and if we dredged thirty thousand 
tons, or even fifty thousand tons, our work would be rendered 
useless. We are powerless to overcome the inevitable workings 
of nature and are therefore obliged to abandon the idea of 
dredging the river.” 

The regretful tone in which he stated that they must abandon 
the idea made all the Assembly laugh. 

Masuda then inquired why, if. the idea of dredging the river 
was to be abandoned, the dredger was sent to be repaired. At 
this Honda, the Chief of the Engineering Section, put on an air 
of amusement at the member’s ignorance. 

“Tt was not on our application,” he said, ‘nor on that of the 
Municipal Council, nor on that of the Municipal authorities. 
We had abandoned the idea of a harbour at Tokushima, but 
although we explained that it was impossible to proceed with 
the dredging of the River Tomita, all the members, of their 


Signer, «a 


IN THE ASSEMBLY HALL 133 


own accord, passed a resolution that the work should be con- 
tinued, and so we were forced to accede. It is unreasonable 
to shift the responsibility on to us now.” 

‘This answer gave great offence to Masuda. 

“There is no question of shifting the responsibility,” he said. 
“T wish to ask why, if this was known, the Assembly was not 
warned of it earlier. I have never heard a word until to-day 
of Tokushima harbour being worthless.” 

Masuda was engaged in the transport business, and therefore 
was especially interested in the dredging question. 

“But I explained to all the members that it was useless,” re- 
plied Honda. “It would be well to listen to the advice of the 
experts on this question.” 

“T suppose you think that the Assembly is useless, eh?” called 
out Inoué, the lawyer, without rising from his seat and without 
asking the President’s permission to speak. 

“What are you jawing about, you bribe-taker?” roared Yuki. 

“Call the Mayor, call the Mayor,” shouted Mitani, 

Hatakeyama, the Deputy Mayor, went hurriedly to the 
Mayor’s room, while the attendant whispered something in the 
President’s ear. 

“Making fools of the Assembly,” added Yuki, as if talking 
to himself. 

“Make him apologise,”’ shouted Inoué from his seat. 

Eiichi, in his seat in the public gallery, was surprised to hear 
the angry shouts of the members. “The newspaper reporters were 
all laughing together noisily at something, which made the 
President frown at them. ‘They did not seem to care, however. 
Although only thirty-eight members were present they made 
noise enough for a club. 

Inoué jumped up. 

“Mr. President,” he said, “Mr. Honda has insulted the As- 
sembly by his remarks, and we demand an apology.” 

To this motion the majority of the members shouted “Hear, 
hear”—even those of the Seiyukai Party, just to annoy the Chief 
of the Engineering Section. 

Then Kusumoto, the “Moving-picture Showman,” thought it 
was time to rise to the support of Honda. 

“There ain’t anything to apologise for that I can see,” he 
said. 


> 


136 BEFORE THE DAWN 

“Shut up, Showman!” 

“Get out, you whoremonger!” 

There were cries of abuse from all over the Assembly 

Kusumoto turned on Inoué. 

“TI don’t know what you’re talking about,’ he said. 

“It’s none of your business, fellow,” retorted Inoué. 

“Who are you calling fellow?” shouted Kusumoto, and 
jumping up. he advanced on Inoué. 

“Mr. President,” yelled Yuki, “an apology, an apology!” 

“You fool,” stammered Honda, “what do you mean?” 

This made Yuki red in the face with anger. 

“Fool?” he said. “Fellow, you call me fool,—you the bribe- 
taker?” 

Honda, who had pretended up to now to be quite unmoved, 
grew pale with anger. | 

“Bribe-taker?” he cried. ‘Prove it. I won’t stand such an 
insult.” 

“T called you a bribe-taker because you are one. Don’t your 
conscience tell you so?” 

“Fool!” And tears came into Honda’s eyes. 

“Who are you calling fool? It’s you that’s the fool, fel- 
low.” | 

The Deputy Mayor here came back, and Kitada of the Satur- 
day Club left his seat and ran up to him. 

“You must call the Mayor at once,” he said. ‘What is Mr. 
Niimi doing?” 

“Yes, he’s coming directly. He’s nearly finished consulting 
with the Diet members.” 

“But, Mr. Hatakeyama, you must make Honda apologise.” 

“Ts it necessary that he should apologise?” 

“That’s what makes people call you bureaucrats,—talking like 
that.” 

Kusumoto had in the meanwhile caught hold of Inoué to 
‘fight him, and in a moment more had struck him a blow. Mitani 
and Yuki rushed up to join in the fray, while the other mem- 
bers looked on aghast. The Seiyukai members all made them- 
selves as small as possible, especially the clean-shaven, short- 
sighted Hanada, who trembled and paled. 

Masuda kept calling out “Mr. President! Mr. President!” 
and the President kept calling for the attendant. Apparently 


IN THE ASSEMBLY HALL 137 


he wanted him to summon the Mayor. Then Masuda went 
up to the President’s seat and addressed him. 

“I move that Kusumoto be handed over to the Disciplinary 
Committee,” he said. 

It had already become a question of discipline. 

Then Kokichi Enomoto, the postmaster, who fancied him- 
self as a supporter of the President, called out, “Discipline is 
of no use.” 

“Inoué began it,” shouted the Seiyukai members, and there 
were cries of “Inoué must apologise. Inoué must apologise.” 

Then the Mayor came in, looking very dignified and 
authoritative, and seated himself on one of the extra seats. 
Eiichi was very much struck by his father’s imposing appear- 
ance in the Assembly. 

The members all became very quiet when the Mayor came 
in, and seemed to have forgotten all about discipline and the 
demand for an apology. They all went back to their seats. 
Inoué leaned upon his desk and hid his face. Honda sat down 
on one of the extra seats instead of his own and wiped his eyes 
with his handkerchief. 

The President announced that the Mayor would give an ex- 
planation of the dredging affair, and then the Mayor made the 
following statement in a very succinct manner: 

“As the members already know, the dredging of the River 
Tomita is entirely useless. I have consulted with the Home 
Office and the Prefectural authorities, and the result is that 
we have arrived at the conclusion that it is hopeless. The alter- 
native is to build a light railway, either from Furukawa Bay 
or Komatsujima, to connect with Tokushima. We have arrived 
at the decision to abandon Tokushima harbour with some regret, 
but we cannot put up with the heavy expense, running into over 
a hundred thousand yen a year, involved in dredging the River 
Tomita. The present dredger will be sold, and dredging suffi- 
cient to allow the cargo boats to enter will be continued for 
the present by hand labour. As this decision has been reached 
_ after consultation with the members of the Diet of all parties, 
I desire that the members of the Assembly will take note of it.” 

The statement was followed by a dead silence. The quarrel 
between Inoué and Kusumoto had caused a reaction and there 
was now perfect quiet. 


138 BEFORE THE DAWN 


The President then announced the adjournment of the As- 
sembly and the members screamed out chattering. 

Eiichi, feeling like one bewitched, left the public gallery and 
went directly to see Tsuruko, to whom he discoursed on the 
worthlessness of politics;—how that out of an Assembly of less 
than forty members, two of them were keepers of houses of ill- 
fame, and how great his father had shown himself in the 
Assembly. . 

The next morning at breakfast, Eiichi ventured to compli- 
ment his father,—the first time that he had done so. 

“So you were there, were you?” was all his father said. 


CHAPTER XVI 
Eiichi’s Madness 


RRR RK MK MK MMM MMH 


r NHE elementary school was a strange place. 
Eiichi was placed in charge of the second class of the 
third standard, consisting of fifty-three children. The 
class contained many dull children. Whenever Eiichi turned to 
write something on the blackboard the children began to get 
noisy. ‘The noisiest child was the son of a ’rikishaman,—a boy 
of eleven years old named Tsuneji Ishii. He was of a restless 
nature and totally unable to concentrate his attention. He 
- sprawled over his desk, which was too low for him, like a spider, 
now taking out his ink-stone, now chewing his pencil, now 
scribbling in his note-book, and then all of a sudden taking 
away the slate of the child that sat next to him. ‘This made the 
child cry, and then all the class would become disorderly. Eiichi 
was completely at his wit’s end. 

There were also some children of the upper middle class 
who were quite bright. ‘There was the second son of the lawyer 
Sontoku Masuda, who was a member of the Assembly, and there 
was another boy, the son of Mr. Kawai, a member of the As- 
sembly, and also a lawyer. He was a very bright and attentive 
boy. Of course there were some poor children who were bright 
and obedient, like Tanimoto, but on the whole the poorly 
dressed children were very dull. Eiichi thought that social ref- 
ormation was as necessary in the school as anywhere else, and 
he endeavoured to carry out his own ideas on the psychology of 
pedagogics, paying great attention to training them in the power 
of concentration, in awakening their interest, in practising con- 
stant repetition, and generally in educating their powers of ex- 
pression and vision. But he could not keep them quiet in the 
classroom, the reason being that the classroom was too small 
and the children too unequal in intellectual capacity. Kiichi 

139 


140 BEFORE THE DAWN 


called his classroom a pig-sty. It was not uncommon for Tsu- 
neji Ishii, during the ten minutes’ interval between lessons, to 
make a dozen of the other children cry. Eiichi thought it would 
be impossible for him to be successful in his teaching while that 
boy was in the class, but he had not the courage to speak to the 
Principal of the school or the Headmaster. As Eiichi’s class- 
room was so noisy the master who was in charge of the fourth 
standard in the next room, himself a graduate of a normal 
school, came to see what was the matter, 

“Keep the children quieter,” he said. ‘‘You disturb us all.” 

Every Monday a teachers’ meeting was held, when the Prin- 
cipal and the Headmaster kept on talking about “Discipline, 
discipline,” and as Eiichi thought they were referring to him he 
was abashed. ‘Then he went to see how the Headmaster con- 
ducted his class. ‘They were all girls in the fourth standard, 
and were all quiet while the master was teaching them. Eiichi 
was greatly impressed, but thought that if he had a class of 
girls he too could keep them quiet. 

Every day his classroom was noisy. Then the Principal came 
himself to the classroom, but even when the Principal was pres- 
ent T’suneji Ishii could not keep quiet. Eiichi decided that he 
was of abnormal mentality and took no further trouble about 
him. Sawamura and Hayashi, the Headmaster, made remarks 
to Etichi that were almost insulting, but Eiichi thought that as 
Sawamura and Hayashi did not know anything about abnormal 
mentality it was not worth arguing with them. 


A teacher’s life had no pleasure for him. ‘The drawing up 


of the method and details of teaching was especially absurd, and 
he had not the heart to write the foolish rubbish. He came 
to the conclusion that the elementary schools of Japan were 
places for stifling people. 

The atmosphere of the teachers’? room was especially hateful 
to him. All the twenty-six teachers were divided into grades, 
according to their salaries, even when the difference only 
amounted to one yen or fifty sen. Elichi was in the fifth grade 


from the bottom. The teachers inferior in grade to Eiichi were 


four in all, two youths and a girl who had just come from the 
training school and had no experience. and the eldest son of the 
Principal, who had graduated in April of that year from a 
Middle School and was only a youth of nineteen. 


EIICHT?’S MADNESS 141 


But in real scholarship none of the teachers could compare 
with Eiichi. He could read English and German easily, and 
could understand all important books and science, religion, 
sociology, literature and art. In the intervals between lessons 
he read German philosophical works, For that reason the Head- 
master and Sawamura did not tease him very much. The male 
and female teachers rarely spoke to each other, although there 
was only one teachers’ room for both. It seemed as 1f they all 
regarded any communication as a sin. Last year there had been 
a love affair in the school between a man and a woman teacher, 
which furnished the subject for much amusing talk among the 
teachers. ‘The couple were now married and teaching at a 
school in a remote part of Mima district, but their fellow- 
teachers abused them as if they were criminals condemned to 
death. 

The only things in the school which were considered impor- 
tant were the military drill and the moral teaching. Eiichi was 
astonished at the poisonous effect of this military education with 
all its formalities. He did not think that he would remain long 
at the school, but he was sorry for the children. He was vexed 
at the thought that a nation with some hopes of international 
greatness should nip such hopes in the bud without scruple. He 
decided that the Japanese educational system had for its object 
turning people into puppets, and he contrasted it, to its con- 
demnation, with the education of Rousseau’s Emile and Sophia, 
which included sexual education. When he thought of the 
sexual education of Sophia and Emile he thought of his own 
blessedness in his love for Tsuruko, whom he went to see every 
evening. But while Eiichi rejoiced at the success of his own 
love affair, at the same time he felt an indescribable agony, 
though he believed that one minute’s talk with his beloved re- 
deemed the twenty-four hours’ agony he suffered afterwards. 
Therefore he went on visiting ‘Tsuruko. They would have to 
Part in another month, he thought, and the romantic feeling of 
Sorrow that welled up served to increase his love. 

But at home Eiichi’s continual absence every evening created 
all kinds of suspicions. Kichisaburo did not know his secret 
and Umé did not know that he was going to see Tsuruko every 
evening. For her part Umé had suspicions that Eiichi had 
Secret relations with the servant Yoshi, because the girl asked 


142 BEFORE THE DAWN 


every evening if she might go and see her aunt, and also be- 
cause Eiichi had always displayed too much kindness in his 
manner towards her. ‘Then, at the end of May, the girl, whose 
real name was Koman Oyama, told Umé she was leaving, and 
went away. ‘The reason she gave was that she was going to 
become a nurse. 

Umé talked of nothing else from morning till night, but the 
relations of Eiichi and Koman. Kichisaburo said in his igh 
shrill voice that one day he had seen the girl crying in Ejichi’s 
study and this served further to arouse Umé’s curiosity. 

Koman Oyama had left at the end of May, and then Umé 
had sent Kichisaburo to the registry office with instructions to 
inquire for a good-looking parlour-maid. But two days passed, 
three days passed, and already a week had elapsed without any 
servant, and as the days went by Umé’s detestation of Eiichi 
increased, and behind his back and even before his face she 
grumbled about how Eiichi had got the servant to leave because 
he disliked Umé and wanted to give her as much trouble as 
possible. 

Then on the 7th of June, at sunset, when Enichi, sunk in 
thought, was returning from a walk, he ran against Koman 
just by Terajima. Koman had become a student and not a 
trace of the servant was observable. With a very friendly ex- 
pression she stopped and said she had to make an apology to 
Eiichi. 

“Apology?” said Eiichi. 

“Yes,” said the girl in a low, pained voice; “the other day, 
when I left your house, the mistress said there was some con- 
nection between you and me and appeared to misunderstand why 
I was leaving.” 

“Well, there really is a connection,” said Eiichi. “It was 
I who advised you to become a nurse, so you certainly can’t 
say there’s no connection. But who told you that the mistress 
had such an idea?” 

At this the girl turned very red. 

“T heard from Kichisaburo the other day when I met him 
in the street, and’ when I went to pay my respects at your house 
just now the mistress said to me, ‘You and Eiichi can enjoy your~ — 
selves as much as you like now, can’t you?’ I was quite shocked.” 

“You are a coward. You ought to have said ‘Yes, we enjoy 


EIICH’S MADNESS 143 


ourselves like mad every evening. What about it? What are 
you doing yourself?’ If you’d answered like that you’d have 
shut her up.” 

Eiichi spoke bluntly and Koman hid her face behind the print 
wrapper she was carrying. 

“How could I tell such a story?” she giggled. 

“But words are only means to an end, you know. People 
often understand better if you speak by contraries.” 

“Yes, but . . .” and she giggled again. 

“TI am glad to hear people say there is some connection be- 
tween us.” 

“But really, it’s not a joke” ... she giggled. 

“Will it interfere with your marriage? Then we won’t say 
there was any connection. You needn’t be anxious about other 
people misunderstanding me. It doesn’t trouble me a bit. Don’t 
pay any attention to what a woman like Umé says. Well, have 
you got into the school?” 

“Yes, owing to your kindness.” 

“Good for you. Study hard. All women, as I have often 
told you, can become like Frances Willard or Florence Nightin- 
gale. Even if you can’t become like them you can be the mother 
of splendid children.” 

“I am studying hard. All the girls who went up for the en- 
trance examination were High School graduates, but of them all 
only two were admitted.” 

She looked along the road as she spoke to see if anybody was 
coming. 

“Yes? That was good. The graduates of the girls’ high 
schools and such like are not much use. At any rate, to my 
mind the best people are those who find gratification in self- 
culture. In my own case—excuse my talking about myself—I 
learnt very little from what I was taught. You must study by 
yourself, even when you are in the nurses’ training school.” 

He spoke to her like an elder brother, and Koman felt very 
pleased. 

“Thank you very much,” she said. ‘Although I have only 
had the pleasure of your society for a very little while, I shall 
never forget your kindness. I shall certainly repay it.” 

“To talk about repaying my kindness sounds rather theatrical, 
doesn’t it? There hasn’t been any kindness or anything of 


144 BEFORE THE DAWN 


that sort. You know, fifty years hence servants will be like a 
fairy-tale. If you don’t become a nurse now, so that people 
cannot laugh at you, when you grow old you will be put to 
shame.” 

The people passing by looked at them knowingly, but Eiichi 
met their looks quite unabashed. 

“If it hadn’t been for you,” she said, “I should never even 
have dreamt of becoming a nurse.” 

“Don’t you think you’ve praised me enough?” 

“The young master is so kind-hearted. Why is it that your 
father does not love you?” 

“Kjnd-hearted? Don’t be foolish. Well, I must go now. 
I’ve got a little studying to do when I get back.” 

“Well then, good-bye till I see you again.” 

The two then parted, but Koman had only gone a few yards 
before she met Kichisaburo carrying something in a wrapper. 
Kichisaburo asked her whom she had been talking to, and she 
told him, blushing a little, that it was the young master. Kichis- 
aburo laughed sarcastically and passed on, and then, when 
he had only gone two or three steps, he turned round and called 
out “Ain’t it funny?” after which he hastened on his way. 

The next day Eiichi, as usual, came downstairs from his 
study to breakfast in the kitchen at about a quarter to eight, 
after his father and Umé had finished. It was his custom to 
read for about three hours from five o’clock in the morning. 
When he came down he found Umé standing in front of the 
sink, with a very cross look on her face. 

“Good morning,” she said. ‘You’re later than usual.” 

“No, it’s my usual time,” he answered. “It’s not eight o’clock 

ets 

“Ts it eight o’clock already? We finished our breakfast about 
half-past six and have been clearing up since then... . The 
clearing up keeps me so busy I don’t know what to do. Tve 
been at it already for two hours.” 

Kichisaburo was just then seated on the boards eating his 
breakfast, and Umé addressed herself to him. 

“Ain’t I kept very busy every morning, Kichisaburo? And 
the young master gives a lot of trouble by being late,—reading 
till this hour. He ought to come down. He ought to come 
down at seven o’clock at latest.” 


EIICHI’S MADNESS 145 


She spoke in a very disagreeable tone. Kichisaburo only 
laughed. 

“If we had two servants it would take all the time of one 
to wait on the young master and clear up after him. Now we 
ain’t got a servant at all it’s a great bother to have to wait til] 
eight o’clock before we can clear up, ain’t it, Kichisaburo?” 

But Kichisaburo only looked at Eiichi and laughed ‘‘He- 
he!” 

“Soman came yesterday, Master Eiichi,” Umé went on. “She 
wished to be remembered to the young master.” 

“Yes? Thank you.” 

Eiichi answered carelessly. He was not going to let Umé 
arouse him. Umé, who wanted to make Eiichi angry by her 
teasing, found Eiichi’s answer too careless to please her. 

“The young master met Koman yesterday,” she went on. 
“TI suppose they had a very pleasant talk, eh, Kichisaburo?” 

But Eiichi did not show any surprise. He supposed Kichisa-= 
buro had been telling tales to Umé. 

“It’s a great trouble to the mistress and Kichisaburo when 
there’s no servant, but I suppose some people think it very amus- 
ing. I suppose Koman said it was all the mistress’s fault for 
being such a scold, eh, Master Eiichi?” 

“T don’t remember that she said so.” 

“Yes, it’s very amusing to see your father and brother put 
about, and to see a lazy person like me put to trouble. I sup- 
pose you and your dear Koman can talk as much as you want 
now every evening. Koman’s got very pretty now, eh?” 

She was venting her spite on him to her heart’s content, but 
Eiichi was unmoved. 

“Yes,” he said, “Koman has got very pretty.” 

“It must be very nice for you to see her so pretty.” 

“Yes. I’m very glad.” 

“But there, when you have to do servant’s work you soon 
lose your good looks. Koman wasn’t pretty when she was 
working here. Really servant’s work is very bad for you. Al- 
ready, though it’s only a week, my face and hands have got 
Coarse, haven’t they, Kichisaburo? Look at your mistress’s 
hands. Haven’t they become coarse, eh?” 

Eiichi at heart was disgusted at Umé’s pettiness, but he thought 
he would let her have her fill of abuse, and so, although her 


146 BEFORE THE DAWN 


continual scolding spoilt his appetite, he determined to remain 
cool and eat as much as he could. 

“Eh, Kichisaburo, now we ain’t got a servant each one must 
look after himself,—cook the rice and wait upon himself— 
except somebody, who cares for nothing so long as he can 
read books.” 

Still Eiichi did not get angry. 

“I can’t prepare any lunch for you to-day, Master Eiichi,” 
Umé went on; “I couldn’t even make any for Master Masu- 
nori.”” 

Umé’s temper was rising, but Eiichi appeared not to care. 

“There, at last the clearing up’s finished. Dm thoroughly 
tired of it. Master Eiichi, I’ve got to comb and arrange my 
hair now. You must wash up your things yourself. How busy 
I’ve been!” 

She left the sink and went towards the back room, wiping 
her hands on her apron as she went. Kichisaburo had finished 
his breakfast and he now asked if he might put away his break- 
fast things, to which Umé assented with an irritating laugh. 

Eiichi piled his breakfast things up on the sink as he had 
been told, and Umé wondered what he was going to do and 
waited to see. “Then Eiichi, as he washed up the bowl, began 
to laugh. 

“What a fool he is,’ jeered Umé, though in a nervous tone 
and so low that Eiichi did not hear her and did not stop 
laughing. 

“Oh, really, he’s such a fool!” said Umé a second time. ‘This 
time her jeer reached Ejichi’s ears. He had finished washing 
the bowl and was taking it out of the water. As he lifted 
it up he threw it on the stone paving and it was broken all to 
pieces. 

“Oh,” said Eiichi, “I’ve broken it,’ and the light laugh of a 
person in a dream escaped from his lips. 

“Oh, how you startled me,” said Umé. “Take care! It 
was lucky I wasn’t hit in the eye by some of the pieces.” 

Then she went into the back room. 

Eiichi hastened off to school, and after spending a very pleas- 
ant day teaching, went off and secluded himself somewhere. 

For three days he did not return home. He was not at the 


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EIICH?S MADNESS 147 


house of his stepmother in the country; he was not at Tsuruko’s 
house; and of course he was not at Koman’s house. 

On the evening of the third day he came home, with the 
wan face of one already half dead. He found that a maid 
servant had come in place of Koman and was working busily 
in the kitchen. 

Tsuruko had advised Eiichi not to oppose his father. Eiichi, 
however, regarded Tsuruko’s tolerance as not in accord with 
the modern spirit of Luther’s Protestantism, and to arouse his 
father to a sense of his position Eiichi thought it would be 
good for him to appear mad. He did not despair of the effect 
of remonstrances, however. One by one Eiichi enumerated the 
points upon which he wished his father to reflect. The frst 
was concerning the true value of wealth. The second was the 
dream of becoming wealthy by a single stroke of speculation. 
The third was as to his responsibility as Mayor. The fourth 
was as to his relations with women, and the fifth was as to his 
treatment of Umé and his real wife and children. These were 
the points that weighed on his mind and on which he thought 
he could bring his father into agreement with himself, He did 
not in the least despair, but he thought that he could not get 
his father to agree with him by ordinary methods. He felt 
that he would like to show a tolerance as wide as the ocean and 
make an unreserved concession in regard to women and con- 
cubines, but when he thought of the number of saints with the 
fervour and blood of Christ, he felt that he must cry “No, no.” 

As he was living in the same house as his father he had an 
aversion to springing his remonstrances upon him and so he 
had kept putting it off from day to day till over thirty days 
had elapsed. He felt that he could never reprove him. 

When he returned in the evening from his three days’ fast, 
he found his father and Umé sitting over the brazier smoking 
and he thought it a good time to make his appearance, 

He bowed low on the mats and coolly apologised for his 
absence and any anxiety it might have caused them. 

His father was silent and took no notice of him. Umé ex- 
pressed surprise. 

_ “You don’t know how anxious you’ve made us, Master 
Eiichi,” she said. “Where have you been?” 


148 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Well, I had something to think about.” 

His father looked at him for a moment with a disdainful 
expression. 

“Eiichi,” he said, “there is no more undutiful son in the 
world than you are. Remember that.” 

He spoke in a cold, composed tone. For a time none of them 
moved. 

Then Ejichi raised his head and looked sternly at his father, 
who, with both his elbows on the side of the brazier, displayed 
entire indifference to Ejiichi’s behaviour, and Umé followed his 
example; but both in their hearts felt anxious as to what Eiichi 
was going to do next. 

But Eiichi never spoke. He concentrated his fixed gaze on 
his father. 

At last the father’s spirit was shaken and he was seized with 
a fit of shivering. 

“Etichi,” he said, “fare you mad? What’s the matter with 
you? How dare you look at me with that insolent stare?” 

“Master Enichi,” said Umé, “‘don’t look like that. What a 
terrible look you have! Don’t do it.” 

She gave a forced laugh in her effort to appear at ease. 

‘Then suddenly a gentle smile hovered over Eiichi’s thin, wan 
face. His eyes shone with joy. 

“Father,” he said, in a low, loving tone. ‘‘Father,” he said 
again hoarsely. “Father,” and this time his voice was broken 
by sobs. But his father did not reply to any of his appeals. 

Ejiichi’s tears fell freely. 

“Father, for Heaven’s sake listen to my... 

The end of the sentence was lost in his sobs. Umé, whose 
abuse of Eiichi four days before stuck in her head, thought 
he was still excited about it and was going to tell his father. 

Her curiosity was strongly aroused. 

A few moments passed. 

“Father,” said Eiichi, so dispirited that he was unable to lift 
his head, “am I really your son? Somehow or other—why, 
I cannot tell—I cannot love my father from the bottom of 
my heart. Every day I wonder how I can come to love you 
and every day my tears fall. For three days I have been wan- 
dering about Mount Oasa thinking how I could grow to love 
you. Ah, if there were only some way of binding heart to 


39 


EIICH?S MADNESS 149 


heart, how I would seize that power to pour my thoughts into 
my father’s breast! ‘That is what I have been praying for.” 

His head fell and he was silent as he wept. But in his 
heart he thought “Reproof? No, it is stale. In the time of 
Shigemori it might have been of service, but in the twentieth 
century there is no room for the child who reproves his father. 
To go out and capture a woman is sufficient. The hero of 
the modern novel does not do anything so out-of-date as to 
reprove his father.” 

The ironic voice in his breast irritated him. ‘To still it he 
spoke again. 

“Father,” he said, “father...I... There are some 
things I must say to you. You must excuse me, father, but 
have you yourself ever thought if your present life is in accord 
with human duty? I cannot help feeling that it is not. I 
have long been wishing to tell you this, but I was afraid that 
you would scold me again, and so I became a coward and could 
not tell you... .” 

His father sat with his head bowed down and Umé assumed 
unconcern and continued to smoke. 

“Each time I go into the country,” continued Eiichi, “I can- 
not help thinking how heartlessly you have behaved to my step- 
mother.” 

“Heartless, do you say?” cried his father. ‘What are you 
drivelling about?” 

“Yes, heartless. Really heartless! My father has buried a 
poor woman alive.” 

Eiichi spoke boldly, but he was crying. 

“But this is a thing of the past. I am trying to bring back 
to the warm life of the present the relation which existed be- 
tween my father and his true wife in the past. My father is 
already fifty-six. And he has been separated from his true 
wife for thirty years. If I can restore the life of thirty years 
ago I can bring back the passion and fervour. No, there was 
no passion and fervour from the beginning. ... But how 
can I help saying it?” 

Eiichi’s mind was troubled. In his heart he scorned himself 
for saying such things while he was the child of a concubine 
himself. To-day his father was not so taciturn as usual. 

“You young fool! I won’t allow you to speak to your father 


150 BEFORE THE DAWN 


in that way. Haven’t I provided Hisa with everything she 
wants?” 

Umé suddenly stood up and went out. To Eiichi her large 
chignon looked very ugly. When she had disappeared he spoke 
gently. 

“Even if you scold me, father, I must speak. Be patient 
with me for a little time and listen. If you will listen to me 
then I will gladly die. Father, according to what my step- 
mother at Umazumé says, you have lost heavily in speculation 
lately. For Heaven’s sake, please cease from speculation. Ac- 
cording to what I hear the property at Umazumé is all mort- 
gaged. What excuse, father, can you make to the ancestors of 
the house of Niimi for this?” 

Eiichi had suddenly become a Confucianist. . 

“It’s my own business what I do, isn’t it? You don’t know 
anything about it. What has an impudent brat like you to 
drivel about? What do you mean to do with me? I will let 
you do what you like! As Pve become an old man I suppose 
I’m no use any more and you may have your way with me.” 

“Do you say that as it is your own money you can gamble 
with it?” said Eiichi hotly, although he was sensible of his dis- 
respect to his father. 

“Ugh! what can an impudent fellow like you know about 
it? Your father has provided everything for you and now you 
turn round and are insolent to him.” 

The father, pale with anger, leaned on the brazier while 
many thoughts ran through his head. 

He thought that it was his fate that all his household affairs 
had fallen into disorder. He had gone as an adopted son when 
he was sixteen years of age. If he had not entered the house 
of Niimi as an adopted son he would have had to end his days 
as the second son of a brewer in Otsumura. If he had not 
become a Niimi he would certainly not have been able to com- 
plete his education. He would not have had any money for 
electioneering expenses. He had not been able to control his 
desire to make Kamé his concubine, and in bringing Umé into 
the house he had yielded to the pressure of his passions. He had 
come into conflict with Hisa when he took Kamé. Now he had 
come into conflict with a child of Kamé by taking Umé. It 
was his destiny. If he had been able to control his passions all 


4 
‘a 


EIICH?S MADNESS 151 


this trouble would not have happened. It would have been 
well if he had never been adopted by the house of Niimi when 
Hisa was thirteen years old. . . . It was his destiny,—his des- 
tiny for which he was not responsible. 

“Then will you tell me, father, which is your own money?” 
Eiichi went on. “You are continually throwing away the prop- 
erty of the house of Niimi. Where is your own money?” 

This was too harsh an attack to be borne. 

“You can say what you like, but you can rest assured I 
haven’t stolen any of the property of the Niimis.” 

“Does it make any difference?” asked Eiichi. 

“Say what you like. If I’m a thief then I’m a thief. If I’m 
a gambler then I'm a gambler and that’s all. However clever 
you think yourself you couldn’t have built a house like this, 
Call me a thief or a robber or whatever you like, but try to 
live in a house like this if you can. What a great thief there 
is in the world, isn’t there?—one who is able to occupy the 
position of Mayor,—a peaceful and fair thief, who knows how 
to hold the reins.” 

Eiichi was silent for a little time, but again courageously re- 
turned to the attack. 

“Father, what are you going to do with us—Emi and Yoshi- 
nori?” 

“TI shall do with you what I like. I don’t want any of your 
interference. Whether I let you live or kill you is my affair. 
You think because you are the eldest son you can speak freely, 
but you’re mistaken. I’m going to hand over the right of suc- 
cession to Masunori. Iam. A clever fellow like you wouldn’t 
want to succeed to the property of a thief, would you? Nor 
shall you. Now I hope you’re satisfied.” 

“No, I don’t want to receive a farthing from anybody. Of 
course Masunori will succeed and I will hand over the right of 
succession to him very gladly.” 

Eiichi’s tears were exhausted. He could no longer tell good 
from evil. He felt as if his body was only a machine. But 
he had not yet said all that was in his thoughts. 

“Father, am I really your son?” he asked dully. 

That was all he could say. His face had a strange, mad 
look on it as he asked this question. 

“No, I’m not your father,” said his father curtly. 


152 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Eiichi had a strange feeling in his head and could no longer 
control himself. He burst into an hysterical laugh, while his 
eyes filled with tears. 

“Father,” he said again as a last appeal. ‘Then he stood up. 
“Why does my father not love me? Why does my father 
not love Eiichi? Why did my father take Umé immediately 
my mother died?” ‘Thus he murmured to himself as he leaned 
against a pillar. 

Eiichi knew that he was only pretending to be mad. He 
remembered that his younger sister sometimes pretended to be 
mad in order to worry their stepmother. Nevertheless at that 
moment he felt sympathy with the mental condition of his sis- 
ter when they said she was mad. He fancied that the state of 
mental excitement lasted in madmen longer than in sane people. 
Also he felt somehow that this mental excitement refreshed 
him so much that he did not want to repress it. 

“Father, I love you,” he said. ‘But I hate your mania for 
speculation and your lust for women.” 

He felt as if Tsuruko had suddenly taken possession of him, 
and his voice took on the gentle tones of a woman. 

“Why does my father hate me? Was I wrong to enter 
the Meiji Gakuin? Are there any people fools enough to be- 
come Government officials or lawyers, now, in the present 
troubled state of the world? Was I wrong to come back from 
the Meiji Gakuin?’ Do you condemn me, father, without hav- 
ing heard my reasons? But I... Well, I will not say any 
more. I will continue my studies according to my own lights.” 

He was talking aloud to himself. He thought his father 
would understand. , | 

For some time his father, bending low so that his head almost 
touched the kettle on the brazier, had been crying. He felt 
afraid of Eiichi, who seemed to him to have some supernatural 
power. 

Umé had come back and was listening in the passage. When 
they were silent again she came in. 

“Eiichi seems to have gone mad,” she said. 


She sat down in front of the brazier as she spoke and put 


the tobacco-box on her knee to fill a long pipe. Then she began 
to smoke with an unconcerned air. Eiichi noted her vulgar 


EIICH’S MADNESS 153 


manners, and giving a grunt of disgust he went out. He had 
gone to see Tsuruko. 

Umé saw her master was crying and burst into a loud laugh. 

“What are you crying about, master?” she said. “What non- 
sense! What does it matter what Elichi says? We don’t care 
a bit for him, Ain’t it what I always said? You must find 
him a fine girl, I tell you. You fix him up with a pretty girl 
and he won’t worry you any more. You won’t do what I tell 
you, and that’s why you’ve had such a lot of worry,” and, clev- 
erly, she half argued with him, half soothed him. 

But the father was silent, thinking of the past. From time 
to time he looked towards the passage with the idea that the 
ghost of Eiichi’s mother would appear. ‘The face of Eiichi’s 
mother, whom Eiichi resembled, loomed before his eyes. 


CHAPTER XVII 


Doubts and Fears 


Kw MMM MMM MM 


IICHI left his father’s house and went to call on Tsu- 
5 ruko, whom he had not seen for some time. She was 

astonished when she saw his emaciated face, but to her 
inquiries as to the reason he returned no answer. If she had 
fervently kissed Eiichi when he first went in perhaps he would 
have answered, but as he thought she seemed rather reserved he 
did not speak. For a moment he thought that ‘Tsuruko was not 
a girl from whom complete sympathy could be obtained. Per- 
haps Tsuruko did not understand fin-de-siécle men, he thought, 
being only a country girl, and he was silent. 

Ejichi felt that the word “lover was meaningless; he 
doubted whether there was any sweetness left in love in a con- 
flicting world. "Yet the more he doubted love the sweeter it 
seemed, The pangs of love! There was nothing so wonderful 
in the whole world. As Eiichi was silent T’suruko began to get 
bolder and took his hand: but even this did not arouse Eiichi’s 
interest in love. To-day, in his depression, he felt an inclina- 
tion to spurn love. With her hand clasping his he recalled the 
grove on Mount Oasa—-the grove said to be tenanted by a goblin 
—where, for three days . . . In that grove of tall cedars there 
was a small shrine, and there he had fasted and meditated for 
three days . . . In the dead of night he had heard the wind 
blowing through the branches of the cedars and had seen the pale 
moon, yet but ten days old, come peeping into the hall of the 
shrine where he was sitting. He recalled that at that moment 
he had suddenly opened his eyes, and a weird feeling of ecstasy 
had thrilled him as he gazed at the moon. ‘The thought came 
to him at the time that he did not wish to play any part in any 
great world-drama in which love or any other form of egoism 
entered. Yet he found in the soughing of the wind as it passed 

154 


DOUBTS AND FEARS 155 


through the branches of the tall pine-trees the same mystery as 
there was in the confused voices of humanity and in the treble 
of ‘T'suruko’s voice, and an inclination came over him to turn 
his head and look at Tsuruko. Her face seemed radiant for some 
reason, but he felt that embracing her was like embracing a 
child. When he could still by a word the storm that swept 
through the grove on Mount Oasa; could quench for a second by 
a single wave of the hand the light of the pale moon:—ah! at 
those moments, how whole-heartedly could he allow himself to 
be caught in the toils of love! Passing from void to void of 
the universe, would he not have found real happiness in alight- 
ing upon annihilation? He felt that there was something 
fatuous in being by the side of Tsuruko, while such thoughts 
were passing through his mind. 

Ejichi embraced Tsuruko and closed his eyes. He thought 
that the test of his love for her would be to lose immediately 
all consciousness of her physical existence and to see her only asa 
vision. But no vision of her came to him; there was only the 
odour of the scent she used. 

Eiichi wandered from thought to thought. Was he himself 
substantial or merely a vision? In his heart he felt that the 
reality around him was only a dream and the world a vision. 
The outer world was no longer real; to him truth was a vision 
and a vision the truth. Yes, the outer world was no longer 
real: the world had run mad, 

He drew near to Tsuruko. 

“Tsuruko,” he said, “the system of the universe has become 
a little deranged. The North Star is 231%4 degrees too low .. .” 

He spoke in a low, melancholy voice. Tsuruko did not under- 
stand at all what he was talking about and was silent, but she 
thought that as Eiichi, to everybody, and to herself particularly, 
manifested a kindly love and sympathy, indescribably noble and 
lofty and filled with a virtue far surpassing that of the ordinary 
Christian, perhaps he was suffering for the ills of others. She 
kissed him, and then in a low and disconsolate voice, with down- 
cast eyes, she asked him what was the matter. 

“When do you go to Hiroshima, Tsuruko?” he asked. 

Tsuruko hesitated. “I don’t want to go to Hiroshima at 
- all,” she said. 


“Why? > 


156 | BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Why? Well, why do you look so sad nowadays? I feel 
uneasy somehow, going to Hiroshima and leaving you 
heres \oeeu 

“Do you want to remain near me! I, too, do not want to 
separate from Tsuruko. Shall I let you go? No, I can’t let you 
go even if you want to.” 

“No, I will not go. Shall we stay here until we die? Oh, 
I haven’t thanked you for cleaning the garden the other day.” — 

“That’s nothing.” 

‘And then, before that, you filled the bath for us and went 
on an errand. How can I thank you?” 

“Why, if you asked me to lay down my life for you I would 
do so.” 

“But I don’t want my dear Eiichi to do that. You are my 
beloved. Even God could not part us.” 

““T’suruko, I intend to leave my father’s house soon.” 

Tsuruko was astonished. ‘‘What’s the matter?” she asked. 

“Well, the truth is . . . But you mustn’t be angry till Pve 
told you all. Tve just had another quarrel with my father.” 

“Quarrel? TI asked you not to quarrel with him.” 

Tsuruko had become a little perturbed. 

“Tsuruko, don’t hang your head. Listen till I’ve told you 
what it was all about. You know what I’m always telling you 
about my relations with my father. ‘Tsuruko, a rupture with 
my father in the near future is inevitable.” 

“What have you done? Why should there be a rupture?” 

“He has cut me off from the succession.” 

“For whom?” 

“He has transferred it to Masunori, he says.” 

“How cruel your father is!” 

“Yes, when I was in Tokyo he didn’t send me enough for 


my school fees, and now that I have come back he treats me 


as a stepson.” 

“How sorry I am for you!” 

“T can endure being treated as if I were an incompetent per- 
son, but it is intolerable to see my father treating society as he 
treats me.” 

“Does your father dislike you so much? Can’t you go on 
living with your father?” 


DOUBTS AND FEARS 157 


“If things go on in this way it can only end in my father’s 
killing me.” 

“Killing you? What should I do if he killed you? Then 
what are you going to do?” 

“T think of going somewhere soon.” 

““Where?” . 

“Well . . . Shall I follow, you to where you are going?” 

“To Hiroshima? Yes, but what will you do there?” 

“Anything will do,—errand boy, apprentice, farmer, any- 
CLG ale 

“Farmer? I don’t like farmers.” 

“What, you don’t like farmers? Oh, don’t you like farm- 
ers? I thought you were different from other school-girls, but 
now I find you are the same. What is holier than a farmer’s 
life? There is a good deal of truth in Tolstoy’s simple life.” 

“Oh, wait! I only said that to see what you would say. You 
mustn’t fly out at me like that. Amos and others were originally 
farmers, weren’t they?” 

Tsuruko had found an excuse, but Eiichi was intent upon 
making his own standpoint clear. 

“TI adore farming,” he said, “but I don’t think the farmer’s 
peaceful existence is all that there is in life. That is why I am 
teaching in an elementary school.” 

“No, there is no life so holy as that of a farmer’s,” said 
Tsuruko, now completely a convert to the philosophy of farming. 

At that moment her aunt called her from below and she had 
to go downstairs. 

Eiichi opened the window and turned over many thoughts in 
his mind. The moon, almost full, was shining on the garden, 
and all the leaves of the persimmon, orange, and peach trees 
were glittering in the light. The neighbourhood was very quiet 
and there was not a light to be seen in any of the houses. The 
moon moved quickly across the sky. There was a sound of the 
gate opening; Tsuruko was going somewhere on an errand. 
Eiichi remained alone sunk in thought. 

He thought of the reason why he had left the Meiji Gakuin 
and of his present meaningless existence, and he was mortified 
at the comparison. He felt that his life had fallen into decay. 
If he studied chemistry and physics and invented something his 


158 BEFORE THE DAWN 


life would not be so purposeless and his learning not so mean= 
ingless.. Suppose he gave up his fancies about social reform 
and religion and entered the Engineering College of ‘Tokyo 
University, and tried to invent something. ... The moon 
came out from behind the clouds, and every corner of 
the garden was lit up. With a kind of scorn in his heart he 
rejected such positivism. “To invent more machines for a people 
who worked like machines was useless. Recreation was a neces- 
sity for mankind. Science, religion, morality, art, even life 
itself, were merely means of recreation. Art was merely the 
amusement of creating clothes in a wider sense, and morality 
the amusement of creating little puppets. Religion, again, was 
the making of great men and was also an amusement. Life 
was a kind of drama; if mankind could not find amusement in 
it then they were mere brutes. 

But the people of modern times did not know how to amuse 
themselves and it was necessary to teach them. His reproof 
of his father arose from his father’s mistaken ways of. enjoy- 
ment. In his examination of himself Eiichi began to vindicate 
the philosophic studies that he had pursued up to now as a sort 
of recreation. 

Tsuruko came back earlier than he expected, but when she 
came upstairs Eiichi took no notice of her and continued his 
meditation. 

“You shouldn’t brood over things,” she said; “it worries me. 
God knows what is best for man. Leave everything to God.” 

Still he remained silent. ‘Tsuruko thought that perhaps her 
remark that she disliked farmers had made him angry. 


“Don’t be angry with me,” she said. ‘Was it wrong of me 
gry ) § 


to think differently from you? You shouldn’t be so angry with 
me when I am sorry.” 

Eiichi was not really angry, but to her apology he returned 
no answer. For ten minutes he did not utter a word. “Tsuruko 
leant against the window-railing and was also silent. She 
affected not to care, but nevertheless she appeared to be weeping. 
Eiichi did not outwardly show any concern over Tsuruko’s tears, 
but at heart he also was affected. 

A few moments passed and then Eiichi asked her if they 
should read some of Shelley’s poems together, and so, till one 


DOUBTS AND FEARS 159 


o’clock in the morning, they read Shelley’s poems. Tsuruko 
said they were very interesting. 

That night Eiichi was again compelled to stay at Tsuruko’s 
house. ‘’suruko spread the quilts for his bed in her own room, 
and while she was spreading them they talked of Shelley and 
then of the activities of the Socialist Party in Tokyo. ‘Tsuruko 
expressed herself as much interested. 

Then Tsuruko, kneeling by her desk, read a chapter of the 
Bible, after which she went downstairs to bed. 

Eiichi got into bed, but spent the night in dreaming and got 
no rest, 


CHAPTER XVIII 
Emi’s Flight 
MRM KKK KK RR RRRAR 


ROM that night Eiichi had a strange feeling in his head. 
kK A violent shivering seemed to run through his frame in- 

cessantly and he sometimes found himself reflecting on 
his condition with dismay. When the shivering was so strong as 
to shake him externally the distinction between dreams and 
reality seemed to be lost. 

On the evening of the day following that which he had 
spent at ‘T'suruko’s house, Eiichi, while sprinkling water in the 
garden as requested, suddenly felt an inclination to smash the 
bucket and sprinkler, and accordingly broke them up into small 
pieces. ‘Then he burst into tears at his own pitiable condition, 
and felt that he would like to go and hide himself in the grove 
on Mount Shiroyama. Without taking any supper, therefore, 
he went there and sat crying under a big camphor-tree' till about 
twelve o'clock at night. Then he went back and woke up 
Tsuruko and spent another night at her house. 

Kichisaburo and Umé told every one that Eiichi had gone 
mad, for the next day he felt an inclination to cut one of the 
beautiful pillars of the house with his penknife, as he thought 
that the pillars were a symbol of his father’s extravagance. He 
took off three or four shavings from the cypress wood pillar by 
the alcove in the front room, and the pillar looked so unsightly 
after he had cut it that he could not contain his laughter. The 
laugh did him so much good that he thought it had lengthened 
his life. 

Then the next morning he got the idea that Kichisaburo was 
such a hateful creature and at the same time such a pitiful 
fellow that he would like to strike him and then smooth his 
head endearingly. So he suddenly sent his fist against Kichisa- 


buro’s head. But when Kichisaburo cried out impudently, 4 


“Whatever are you doing?” Ejichi felt that he hated him. He 
‘ is 160 


EMI’S FLIGHT 161 


therefore caught hold of him and threw him down and got on 
his back, as if he were a horse, catching hold of his two ears 
and pulling them as hard as he could. Kichisaburo began to 
cry out with pain and Eiichi burst into a peal of laughter. 

In the classroom at the school, however, all the children were 
now very obedient to Eiichi, which made him very pleased. 
He picked out the cleverest and prettiest among the little girls 
to fondle, while he wept inwardly. ‘The little girls were very 
fond of being embraced by their teacher. 

When Ejlichi went to see Tsuruko he always felt as if he 
wanted to cry. He found that he could not often lay his hands 
on Tsuruko’s soul, and when he did it soon slipped through his 
fingers, like a ghost. Nevertheless ‘Tsuruko was so dear to him, 
and there being no rival to interfere in their relations—not even 
a father or elder brother—he went to see her every day and 
stayed late, talking and crying in a very delightful manner. 

He himself did not think that he was going mad, however, 
for although he did all sorts of strange things, he played these 
pranks deliberately. “Thus four or five days passed. 

Once during this time he took out his beloved penknife from 
his breast and amused himself with scratching on the white 
walls of the newly built store-house the Chinese characters for 
“Isolation,” “Greatness,” and “Incarnation,” in large letters. 

It had been arranged that Tsuruko should leave for Hiroshima 
on Monday, the 28th of June, the steamer starting at ten o’clock 
at night. The day would soon arrive. On the Saturday before 
he received an urgent letter from his stepmother in the country 
asking him to go and see her at once as she wanted to tell him 
something. ‘The letter had already been opened, but he did not 
express any anger. He did not trouble himself in the least 
about Umé’s and Kichisaburo’s suspicions or evil designs, and 
getting a holiday from the school he started off in high spirits for 
the country. 

When he got out of the town he came all at once on the plain 
of the River Yoshino. Now that he could look all over the 
newly planted paddy-fields the world seemed a busy place, and as 
the honest yellow colour of the straggling roofs appeared his 
mind was filled with tranquillity. The destruction of the bucket 
and sprinkler appeared to him as strange and pitiful. Why had 
he not come out at once on to the open plain and not behaved 


162 BEFORE THE DAWN 


with such childish madness? But it was useful to have the 
courage to break a cup now and again when one lived in a 
world of men. No, it was more than useful; it was a necessity. 
No, it was not a matter of necessity either; it was predestination. 
It was not to please himself that he had cut the pillar in the 
alcove. It seemed to him that he had been commanded to do 
it. When he reflected on the matter he vindicated himself as 
unable to act otherwise. 

Two miles, four miles:—he was drawing very near the house 
now. While he was crossing Ushiyajima ferry the thought came 
to him that, after all, to meet and embrace the loved one was 
better than all nature. No, that was not it. The best of all 
would be to have nature and the loved one together. It was 
unbearably lonely walking alone. Alone one could not grow 
enthusiastic. “The loneliest wilderness would be a place of en- 
joyment with the loved one. In the wilderness there was no 
one to find fault with him; people who made nasty remarks like 
Umé and Kichisaburo would not be there. It occurred to him 
that he should have brought T’suruko with him; but no, T’su- 
ruko would be too ashamed to go back to Umazumé. Ah, Tsu- 
ruko was dear! How dear she was! He could not exist a 
day without seeing her: he must go back that day. The day 
after to-morrow she was leaving. He must gaze upon her face 
if only for an hour more, as soon as he got back. . . . 

Thus his thoughts ran as he walked. When he came to the 
ruin of the house where she had lived he stopped and murmured 
““Tsuruko,” and then turned his steps to his own house. 

He entered the house and supposed that his stepmother and 
younger sister were engaged in needlework in the outside room, 
as they were not in the main building. He went along the 
verandah, and then he heard his stepmother scolding Emi. 

“How stupid you are! Can’t you even sew this properly— 
this gusset? If you are as stupid as that, how can you ever get 
married?” 

“Well, mother, how are you feeling to-day?” asked Eiichi 
from the passage. 

The screen was slid back from the inside, and “Oh, Ejichi, 
is that you?” said his stepmother. “It was very good of you to 
come. Did you get my letter? Thank you, Im getting 
On Minar 


EMYS FLIGHT (163 


She spoke in a depressed manner, however. 

“Eiichi,” she went on while she gazed at Emi, “Emi is really 
so dull that Pm at my wit’s end. She can’t even make a dress 
for herself properly.” 

Emi hung her head while she went on sewing the gusset. 

“She must be a great trouble to you,” said Eiichi, “but please 
be patient with her. I’m glad to hear that you’re getting better. 
But, mother, what was the business on which you wanted me 
to-day?” 

“Well, come in and sit down. Don’t stop on the verandah. 
You can take your time to-day as to-morrow’s Sunday. Emi, 
go and fetch a cushion.” 

Emi got up in silence and hastened to the kitchen. Eiichi, 
looking after her, saw that she was poorly dressed, with a red 
woollen sash. Her clothes were badly put on, especially her 
waistband, her hair was all in disorder, and her neck black with 
dirt. As she went along on her big feet he felt some difficulty 
in realising that she was any relation of his. 

“Oh, thank you,” he said, “but I must get back to-day as I 
have some business.” 

“That’s very strange. Won’t you stay the night? I’ve been 
- better this last day or two, and, as you see, I’m up to-day, so I 
thought we’d have a long talk this evening and you’d tell me 
all about Tokyo.” 

“Yes, but ve got to get back this evening.” 

“Yes? Business, you said. What’s the business?” 

“Oh, nothing particular, but one of my friends is going to 
Hiroshima on the 28th and I’ve something that I must talk 
about.” 

Emi returned with the cushion. 

“There, do sit down. Emi, some tea. So that’s what it 
is. Well, I suppose you can’t stay then. ‘That business I wanted 
to see you about,—it’s just this. Your father’s suddenly an- 
nounced that he’s going to raise the autumn ground-rent four per 
cent.” 

“When did he come and say that?” 

“When was it? Let’s see, the day before yesterday Kamé 
came from town and went about telling people. You know 
Kamé’s more at the house in town than he is here. We didn’t 
know anything about it. Well, yesterday the men from Shin- 


164 BEFORE THE DAWN 


den all came here together to complain about it. It gave us 
quite a scare, didn’t it, Emi? Weren’t we frightened yesterday 
morning?” and she appealed to Emi, who had just arrived with 
the tea. 

“Yes, I don’t think we ever had such a fright,” said Emi, 
evidently to ingratiate herself with her stepmother. 

“What happened really?” asked Eiichi. 

“What happened?” said his stepmother. ‘Why, they all 
came in a line to the entrance. How many were there, Emi? 
There must have been eight or nine of them.” 

“Yes,” said Emi. “I should think there were even ten of 
em.” ; 

“Ten? Did ten come?” 

“Yes, and without saying what they wanted they asked very 
quietly for the master. ‘They all came in without any hesita- 
tion.” 

‘“‘Who went out to them?” 

“I was so frightened I didn’t go out. We sent the servant 
out first, and afterwards Emi went out, didn’t you, Emi?” 

“Well, and after that?” 

“We told the servant to say that the master was absent, but 
they said that Kamé had told them that if they had any griev- 
ance they had to go to Umazumé. They said that the master 
must be in, though, of course, your father wasn’t here, and we 
didn’t know anything about the ground-rent. We said that 
as the report had come from town, you know, we didn’t know 
anything about it, but if they had anything to complain of they 
ought to go to town, but they said there couldn’t be any doubt 
about it as Kamé had been telling everybody and so it must be 
true. ‘You must know about it,’ they said, ‘’cause you’re part 
o’ the family, but if you don’t know then we won’t pay the 
ground-rent. If the master ain’t in,’ they said, ‘we’ll see the 
missus.” So we told the servant to say that her mistress was sick, 
but they told her if that was so then they’d see the young missus. 
Emi was so shy that she wouldn’t go and see them, but as they 
said that they wouldn’t go away till they’d seen her, there was 
nothing else to do but to send her out to ’em. They spoke so 
loud, of course, I heard everything they said in the back room. 
‘If we’d been told,’ they said, ‘when we was preparing our 
seedbeds, that the ground-rent was to be raised, we should ’a? 


EMYS FLIGHT 165 


been able to think it over, but now the rice ’a’ grown and it’s 
been manured two times, and raising the ground-rent now by 
four per cent. will put us in a pretty fix. If we was to make 
trouble you’d go for the police, so we won’t, but just think o’ 
the deal o’ trouble you’re giving poor people like us. We'd be 
very much obliged if the good lady o’ the house sent a message 
to the master in town saying that if he can’t abate a bit we can’t 
neither, and if the police are called in to make us pay the extra 
rent, we'll just let the police send us to prison. ‘That’s what 
we’re going to do.’ They didn’t get excited, but as they thought 
there were only women in the house they spoke in such a vulgar 
way they made me feel quite bad, woman as I am.” 

“Well, you’ve had strange happenings,” said Eiichi, smiling 
unconcernedly. 

“Tt was really terrible. Suppose they’d got troublesome what 
could we ha’ done against the ten of ’em, without a man in the 
house and me sick? ‘They could ha’ soon killed all three of 
tS. 

She was exaggerating the affair a little. 

“Hm! Father’s acting very harshly,” said Eiichi. 

“To do such a thing when he knew the trouble it would gi’ 
us,” said his stepmother. ‘‘We’re really in a terrible fix.” 

“Yes, it’s a great bother,” said Eiichi. ‘What did you do 
after that?” 

Eiichi could hear the shouts of some children catching shrimps 
with a net in the canal at the back of the house. A shrike called 
loudly from the top of a persimmon tree. 

“We told ’em that we really didn’t know anything about it,” 
said his stepmother, “but that we’d send to town and look into 
the matter very carefully.” 

“Did they go when you said that?” 

“Yes, in about an hour, after they'd had a talk together, they 
went away. Yesterday I was thinking all day what I was to do, 
and all night I couldn’t sleep a wink I felt so nervous.” 

“Did you speak to the police?” 

“Well, I did think o’ doing so, but then I thought we should 
have to lay bare our shame, and besides I didn’t know but what 
they mightn’t do something to the messenger on the way to the 
police station, so I didn’t send anybody. I can’t tell you how 
anxious I was yesterday.” 


166 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“What about the men servants?” 

“Well, they're not members of the family, you know, and as 
I felt ashamed o’ telling them your father had raised the ground- 
rent four per cent., I couldn’t let em know that the Shinden 
people had been here frightening us.” 

“Well, what are you going to do about it?” 

“That’s why I sent for ’ee to come here quick. I thought 
Id have a talk wi’ ’ee and see what could be done.” 

“Yes, but I don’t know what to do.” 

“But we must do something. Is it really true, d’you think, 
what Kamé has been telling every one?” 

“T don’t see how it can be. Yet, if it wasn’t true I don’t see 
why they should get angry. Coming from father it’s probably 
true. I suppose they find it difficult to pay the interest.” 

Exichi spoke in a half joking way. | 

“Yes, that’s likely it. All sorts of unpleasant things happen 
when you get poor. I heard your father lost sixty thousand yen 
in speculation the other day. Is it true, do you think?” 

“Well, I only heard it from you when I came back from 
Tokyo. So they say he’s lost sixty thousand yen?” 

“Then you don’t know about it although you are living with 
himt ‘They say he’s lost sixty thousand yen. Kamé said so.” 

“What a pity!” 

“Yes, really I’m quite distressed when I think that in a little 
time this house and ground may be taken away from us.” 

“Let them take it. We were born naked, so we may well 
live naked. Aren’t birds, for instance, clothed just the same 
day and night?” \ 

Enichi was thinking of Christ’s saying as to Solomon in all 
his glory. 

“I shouldn’t complain if I had. beautiful clothes like .a bird,” 
said his stepmother. “But you’re a man and can talk like that. 
Women’d never say such things.” 

“Women? They’re not so different from men,” replied 
Eiichi. “Mankind would look much more beautiful without 
clothes than with them.” 

Eiichi had started a nudity cult. 

“Well, from the point of view of reason perhaps you’re 
right, but you can’t always go by reason in this world.” 

“Is there any reason that the world should be illogical? 


‘ 


EMI?’S FLIGHT 167 


Only those who are on the side of reason can get on in the 
world. Reason was made to be in accord with the world.” 

“T must give it to you, Eiichi,” said his stepmother, laughing, 
‘Gf you talk like that. But what d’you think we’d better do? 
Give me your advice what to do next.” 

“What to do next? Well, I wouldn’t worry about it. I 
shinkice tix 

“Not worry? Why, we don’t know whether they mightn’t 
do some damage to the house.” 

“Tt doesn’t matter if they fire the house or break it up. 
There’s no fear of their murdering our souls even if they do 
murder our bodies.” 

Eiichi had gone to extremes. 

“But we don’t want them to set fire to the house,” said his 
stepmother. ‘Do we, Emi?” 

Emi only laughed. 

“Don’t say such things, Eiichi,” went on his stepmother, “but 
tell me what I should do next. I don’t want ten or fifteen men 
coming here again and frightening me.” 

“What a coward you are, mother. Who cares for ten or 
even twenty of them?” 

“How big you talk,” she laughed. “CEiichi’s quite changed, 
hasn’t he, Emi?” 

“T don’t know,” was all that Emi said. 

“But really, what shall we do? If they ask your father and 
find out that it’s true, we shall have no excuse to give ’em, and 
every one will know our shame.” 

“Don’t be anxious, mother,” said Eiichi. “Pll undertake 
to settle the matter. There’s no difficulty about it, so don’t 
worry. You’ve got a list of the tenants in the house, I suppose.” 

Eiichi was staring at the dried-up pond in the garden with its 
filthy growth of moss. Beneath the kitchen verandah there was 
a litter of broken glass and blue medicine bottles. A spider 
had spun his web under the eaves and the sun shining on it made 
the web sparkle. 

“Yes, we have a list,” said the stepmother. ‘What do you 
want with it?” 

“Oh, I'll just go through it and send postcards saying that 
the proposed increase of four per cent. in the ground-rent has 
been cancelled owing to certain circumstances.” 


168 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“In your father’s name?” 

“Well, it doesn’t matter whether it’s in my father’s name 
or my own.” 

“You'll make your father angry again. I won’t be re- 
sponsible if he gets angry.” 

“Well, let him get angry.” 

Hisa looked at Emi. “Emi,” she said, “you’d better see about 
getting dinner ready . . . Well, do as you like, only I don’t 
want to have to worry about it any more.” 

Emi hastened off to the kitchen. 

“Father does what he likes,” said Eiichi, “so we can do what 
we like. Where’s the list?” | 

Eiichi then sent the servant out for some postcards and wrote 
on each of them that the increasé in the ground-rent had been 
cancelled. It took him until two o’clock to finish them. In 
the middle of the work he had occasion to go through the 
kitchen, and there he saw Emi, while standing at the sink wash- 
ing out a pan, picking up and eating the pieces of rice as they 
fell out. He felt great pity for her. 

As soon as he had finished writing he took his leave, but as he 
was going out of the gate he heard some one coming after him 
in sandals, and a voice cried “Brother.” He turned round and 
found it was Emi. His thoughts were so intent on Tsuruko 
that he had forgotten all about Emi. He looked at her and 
found that she had been crying. 

““What’s the matter?” he asked. 

“ve got something to tell you, brother,” she said. 

“What is it?” 

“Every one can see us talking here. Can’t we go to the 
river or somewhere?” 

““What’s the matter? Have you been scolded to-day? I’m 
really very sorry.” 

Emi was silent for a moment and then asked again if they 
could not go somewhere where they could not be seen. She 
appeared to be very anxious that nobody should see them. 

“Well, then,” said Eiichi, “let’s go to the river bank at East 
Shintaku.” 

“Anywhere will do. If anybody was to tell stepmother, 
she’d scold me again,” and Emi fidgeted and looked behind her 
at the gate as she spoke. 


EMY’S FLIGHT 169 


“Well, follow me quickly then,” said Eiichi, and he walked 
off with long strides while Emi followed with her short steps. 
They mounted the dyke and concealed themselves behind a bush 
on the bank of East Shintaku. Eiichi gazed at the green fields 
of Shinden and the blue water of the river while he questioned 
Emi. 

““What’s it all about, Emi?” he asked. 

“Brother, I feel as if I want to die, everything’s so disagree- 
ables 

She sobbed, and Eiichi, looking at her, felt sympathetic tears 
rising in his own eyes. 

“Why do you say that, Emi?” he asked. 

“I can’t bear stopping at Umazumé any more. Yesterday, 
just cause I broke a plate she was telling everybody that came 
how stupid I was. ‘To-day she’s been cross ever since this morn- 
ing. If only I had my real mother! . . .” 

Eiichi was silent. The ferryboat was crossing from the 
shore at Tamiya to Shinden. The reeds were reflected in the 
clear water. 

“Then there’s Danjiki’s daughter, who’s seventeen and is 
going to marry Takayuki at West Shintaku,—she’s making her 
own wedding dress, and yesterday her father (Hisa’s cousin) 
came to the house and right before me she said, ‘This girl o’ 
mine’s so stupid she’s no good at all. She doesn’t know how to 
use a needle or even to wash up a cup.’ That’s what stepmother 
said. I felt as if I wanted to die.” 

“Emi, I don’t like to see you get in such a temper.” 

“But just think of it. I have to get up in the morning earlier 
than any one else, light the stove, call up the servants and the 
men, and make the breakfast, and then I have to work till nine 
o'clock in the evening. Even when I work like that she says 
“How slow you are! How slow you are!’ and drives me about. 
‘Then, also, if I just chip the rim of a plate she says I must pay 
for it.” 

“Does she make you pay for it?” 

“Yes, I had to pay five sen yesterday.” 

“Did stepmother take the money?” 

“Of course she did.” 

Emi had begun to cry again. Lik 

“Do take pity on me, brother,” she said. ‘My mother’s dead, 


170 BEFORE THE DAWN 


and even if I have a father, you know what he is. Stepmother 
treats me worse than a servant and I can’t bear it any longer 
alate WL aheen days ago ie 

She stopped. She was so distressed that she did not know 
what it would be best to tell him,—whether to tell him how 
ten days ago she was caught eating on the sly in the back room 
and was scolded; or how her stepmother told her she was awk- 
ward in serving the rice; or how one of the fowls had disap- 
peared a week ago and her stepmother had said it was her fault; 
or how she was scolded for not cleaning the household shrine 
properly; or how her stepmother complained that she always 
used four pith wicks in the lantern and scolded her for that; or 
how she was always scolded for the flavouring of the bean- 
soup. Her thoughts wandered from one thing to another. 
‘Three days ago her stepmother had accused her of taking a 
yen note which she had placed under her mattress when she 
went to bed. ‘This was the thing that rankled most sharply 
in Emi’s mind, but she could not bring herself to speak of it 
although it rose in her thoughts first. She remembered how 
many times false charges like that had been made against her. 

“Well,” asked Eiichi, “what happened three days ago?” Emi 
was crying so much that she could not answer for a moment. 

“Three days ago, though I didn’t do it, stepmother said I'd 
stole some money—a yen. She... She’d put it under her 
mattress when she went to bed, she said, and it wasn’t there in 
the morning.” 

“But you didn’t steal it, Emi, did you? And if you didn’t 
steal it, why should you trouble yourself about it?” 

“Yes, but it’s very hard to be called a thief when you're not 
one.” 

“Oh, it’s as bad as that, is it? You know Koman, the ser- 
vant in town? She’s become a nurse, and they say that it was I 
who made her become a nurse just to annoy the people at home. 
But what’s the use of people being always afraid that their 
actions will be misconstrued? I know you feel that your posi- 
tion is very disagreeable, but look at my case. They don’t give 
me full three meals a day and I have to wash up my own things. 
And I have only one of these,” and he showed her his knitted 
undershirt, which was discoloured with dirt. 

Emi took a look at it and burst into fresh tears. 


EMY’S FLIGHT 171 


“If you cry as loud as that,” he warned her, “the people pass- 
ing above will think it strange.” 

““How cruel father is,” moaned Emi, “not to care how we’re 
treated.” 

“There’s more than that, Emi. They don’t give me any lunch 
to take to school now, and because if I study at night I burn up 
a lot of oil, I have to get up in the morning to study.” 

“Is father as bad as that?” 

“Oh, that would be all right if that was all, but he’s going 
to give the right of succession to Masunori.” 

“And put you out? You?” 

Emi was astonished. Eiichi looked out over the river. There 
were ripples on the still, smooth surface of the water, which 
was white and sparkling in some places and blue in others, as if 
forming part of a design. ‘Truly it was a beautiful sight. 

“Don’t cry, Emi,” he said. ‘You needn’t be anxious while 
Pm alive. Just wait a little while.” 

“But I’m tired of living in the country. I’m afraid I shall 
be killed or die, being scolded like this from morning till night.” 

“But bear it just a little longer. What else can we do?” 

“Yes, but Pve got tired of Umazumé and can’t stay here any 
longer. Oh, how hateful it is to be the child of a mistress!” 
she cried amid her tears. 

‘The words “child of a mistress” awoke an echo in Eiichi’s 
breast and his face took on a look of determination. 

“Emi,” he said, “it’s all right. Dll take you with me. Let’s 
go to Kobé. You're prepared to go out to service, aren’t you?” 

He spoke in a hurry. 

“To go out to service? Well, it’s far better than stopping at 
Umazumé.” 

“Can you go as you are?” 

“T don’t care how I look. If you don’t mind TP’ll come with 
you now. But how about money?” 

“Tve got ten yen left out of my salary so you needn’t be 
anxious about that. We can get to Kobé easily on that. Let’s 
go at once before they find out at home.” 

“Will you really take me with you?” 

Emi wiped her eyes on her sleeve and looked up. On her face 
had appeared an endearing look of trust in him as her protector. 

So Ushiyajima saw them no more and they fled in jinrikisha 


172 BEFORE THE DAWN 


to ‘Tokushima, which they reached about five o’clock. Eiichi, 
while riding in the jinrikisha, was struck by the fact that his 
tears had fallen that day for the sake of the sorrows of his little 
sister. 

They had nowhere to go to at Tokushima so they sought 
Mount Taki and walked about there. When they thought of 
the future they felt as if the sun was setting for the last time. 
From under the three-storied pagoda they could see the whole of 
‘Tokushima. 

“It’s against my will your going out to service, Emi,” said 
Enichi. 

“It’s my fate,” she replied. ‘My star is unlucky and it can’t 
be helped.”” 

She showed very clearly that her mind was made up, but 
Eiichi was troubled at the thought that he was going to turn his 
own sister into a servant when a month had not elapsed since 
he had assisted a servant to rise in the world. 

“Emi,” he said, “if you feel lonely wherever you go to in 
Kobé, you won’t be able to write to me. That’s the worst of it. 
But still I shall go and see you every month or so.” 

“Yes, I don’t like the thought of it. To be together like this 
makes me feel as if I was in heaven. It’s very hard I can’t 
write to you, but at any rate I shan’t have my stepmother scold- 
ing me.” 

There was something pitiful in her hopefulness, 

“Look, brother,” she cried delightedly, “the electric light is lit 
at Nakasu. Isn’t it pretty?” 

Eiichi saw that Emi had no ideas as to the future. As she 
gazed at the electric lights he thought of the future of this 
country girl and his eyes became dim. When he thought of the 
many temptations of the city to which she was being sent and 
the ease with which the conscience is blunted, he could not re- 
strain his tears. 

“Are you crying again, brother?” said Emi, turning to her 
brother when he did not answer. 

“Emi,” he said, “it’s all right your going to Kobé, but sup- 
pose you fell ill or something, what are you going to do?” 

“If you talk like that how can one ever go anywhere? It’s 
*cause you're ill yourself that you talk so. Would a young, 


EM?’S FLIGHT 173 


healthy girl like me fall sick?” and she smiled with great con- 
fidence. 

“Yes, but you’re so high-spirited that I feel anxious about you. 
When country people go to town they often get into trouble be- 
cause they feel as you do now. There’s so many strange things 
in town, you know, that you get carried away unintentionally. 
For a little time you enjoy yourself and then the dream is over. 
For instance, who thinks beforehand that he will have beri-beri 
when he goes to town until he actually has it?” 

Under these warnings Emi became depressed, and when he 
saw her dejected face he felt pity for her and determined to let 
her go to Kobé. ‘To cheer her up he asked her if she would like 
some rice cakes, 

“No, don’t buy any,” she said. “We can’t afford to spend 
even ten sen. Let’s go to Nakasu. I wonder what time the 
boat goes.” 

“It’s too early yet. The Kyodo-maru leaves at eight o’clock 
and the later one must be at ten o’clock.” 

“T wonder what time it is now.” 

“Tt must be seven o’clock, it’s got so dark. Let’s walk down 
slowly. We needn’t get flustered.” 

“T shan’t feel safe till I get aboard.” 

“Don’t be afraid; P’'m with you. But aren’t you hungry? 
Won’t you have something—some vermicelli?” 

“Vermicelli? No, I don’t want anything. But you must 
be hungry. You must have something when we get down.” 

So they went along, passing by the Sangitei and Shiraitotei 
restaurants, and came out in front of the bronze statue of the 
Emperor Jimmu. At the entrance to the Shiraitotei there was 
stuck up a placard with the words “Celebration of the comple- 
tion of Tomita Bridge” written on it in large letters. They 
could hear the sound of samisen on the third floor and a clamour 
of voices. 

“Perhaps father’s in there with that lot, Emi,” said Eiichi, 
laughing. ‘‘He takes life easily.” 

Emi and Eiichi went by the eight o’clock boat to Kobé, and 
there went to a servant’s agency in Aioicho. But the agency 
wanted a person to stand as surety, so they went back to the house 
of Yoshitaro Yoshida, the boatman, where Eijichi told him all 


174 BEFORE THE DAWN 


the circumstances and asked him to arrange the matter. Eiichi 
asked him to keep the matter secret from his father, repeating 
this request earnestly many times. 

Eiichi went back by the twelve o’clock boat next day and Emi 
went down to the pier to see him off. Just before he went on 
board Eiichi told Emi that he wouldn’t be surprised if he came 
back again very soon. 

“Oh, do come,” she said imploringly. “TI shall be looking 
forward to it.” 

“Tt’s too early to go on board yet. Let’s have a little talk,” 
and Eiichi led her along the pier. When no one could hear them 
he spoke. : 

“Emi,” he said, “you must have all your wits about you and 
work hard, you know.” | 

He looked at her as he spoke and Emi hung her head. On 
her brown face, with its red cheeks, there appeared a look of 
resolution. 

“TI don’t feel as if I wanted to go back,” continued Eiichi. 
“The only reason why I’m doing so is because I want to reason 
with father once or twice more. If I find it’s useless I shall 
come away.” | 

Of course he was thinking more of Tsuruko than of his 
father. He conjured up before him Tsuruko’s beautiful rosy 
cheeks and her waving hair. 

Emi assented to her brother’s plans. “Yes,” she said, “that 
will be best. If we both disappeared together he'd certainly 
come to seek us, and that would be a great bother.” 

While they were talking the whistle blew and Eiichi had to 
hurry aboard. ‘The vessel cast off from the pier and he saw Emi 
left standing there lonely. He thought it was not manly to 
stand staring after her, however, so he went down into the third- 
class saloon. But still in the dark corners of the saloon he saw 
in imagination the pier at Hyogo and standing on it, with bent 
head, the piteous figure of a dumpy girl, with rusty, disordered 
hair, bright eyes, red cheeks, brown face, and rough hands. 


CHAPTER XIX 


Tsuruko’s Departure 


RR ARR KKK MMM MK MK 


IICHI got home at seven o’clock in the evening and en- 
kK tered with an unconcerned air. His father and Umé 
were having their evening drink and appeared to be sur- 
prised when Eiichi turned up. His father at once questioned 
him about Emi. A messenger had come from the country the 
day before with inquiries about her, so his father knew all about 
it. Nevertheless Eiichi returned no answer. Although his head 
was aching he went to call on Tsuruko, who saw that he had 
been crying. 
““What’s been the matter to-day?” she asked, 
“Oh, there’s been another scene.” 
“With whom?” 
“With my father.” 
“What was the matter?” 
“I’ve taken my young sister away.” 
“Where to?” 
peWWelbe gic e? 
“Won't you tell me?” 
“I’m ashamed. You can guess what it is, can’t you?” 
“Yes, but... Have you had another collision with your 
father about something?” 
SOY GS.)° : 
“What have you done with your younger sister?” 
“T’ve left her at Kobé.” 
“Kobé? When? Did you go too?” 
“To-day. Ive only just come back.” 
“To-day? You are funny. What did you do with your sister 
when you took her to Kobé?” 
“T put her out to service.” 


“To service? How cruel!” 
175 


176 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Cruel? ‘You say that because you don’t know the circum- 
stances.” 

“Tell me the reason. . . . Can’t you tell me?” 

Eiichi told her all about it, little by little, feigning sadness 
and forcing his tears out so as to secure T’suruko’s sympathy. 
He thought to himself that if he didn’t make a pretence of 
crying she would think he was very unsympathetic. After all, 
everything, was for love. It was plain that his mind was un- 
balanced. 

When the day came that the beloved Tsuruko was to leave 
Tokushima he did not feel particularly upset, but although he 
went to school that day, he did not play with the children very 
cheerfully. 

About eight o’clock in the evening he went to Tsuruko’s house 
and behaved for an hour like a lover who is about to be sepa- 
rated from his beloved one. ‘Twenty minutes of the time were 
spent in silence, and the remaining forty minutes passed quickly 
in lamenting that they could not proclaim to the world that they 
were husband and wife. Nevertheless they found time to weep 
together. 

When he went to Nakasu to see her off he found a crowd of 
pretty girl friends, all with their hair done in the latest style 
and bright faces. Mrs. ‘Taylor was among them, and a teacher 
at the girls’ school. Some of the girls were from Tsuruko’s 
class and some from lower classes. “The only men to see her off 
were the Pastor and Eiichi. 

Perhaps it was to see all of ‘Tsuruko’s pretty friends that 
Eiichi went into the second-class saloon, which Tsuruko had en- 
tered, and there, in front of them, reminded Tsuruko of her 
promise to write to him. He was going out again when Tsuruko 
asked him to stop and talk a little longer, as they had twenty 
minutes yet before the boat started. But in spite of her entreaty 
he went out thinking that it would not be manly to remain there. 
While he was leaving the saloon he heard some one asking 
Tsuruko who that handsome young man was, and he heard 
Tsuruko reply very proudly, ““That is the son of the Mayor of 
Tokushima.” 

When the boat was on the point of starting, Tsuruko, that 
white pearl, enswathed in lovely silken robes, came and stood on 


TSURUKO’S DEPARTURE 177 


the deck. Eiichi thought that she looked especially in his direc- 
tion. 

The boat passed away, leaving a trail of smoke, and Eiichi 
returned home and soon went to bed. He tried to conjure up 
T’suruko’s face, but found that although he could form an 
image of her profile, he could not, try as he would, picture her 
full face. Not only this, but he had a feeling that he had for- 
gotten T’suruko’s face. In her place there appeared to him his 
little sister, with her brown face and rusty hair, standing in tears 
with bent head. 

“Tsuruko has already gone,” he murmured to himself. 


CHAPTER XX 
The Bedclothes 
MM MM MOM OM OM MOM MK OM OM HO 


Pr “SHE next morning Eiichi had a dream. 
It was a dream about a farmer in Virginia whose 
name was something like “Sabi.” At that time some 
one was plotting to drive America and Germany into war, and 
it was said that if one fasted for thirty-eight days, it would be 
possible to catch the conspirator. Of course, if the conspirator 
was caught the war between Germany and America and other 
wars would cease in the world. ‘Then the people all said, “Let 
us try to fast,” and “Sabi,” according to the dream, fasted for 
thirty-eight days without any trouble, and, of course, the con- 
spirator was then easily caught, and not only the German-Ameri- 
can conflict averted, but all other conflicts as well. 

‘This was his dream, and it seemed to him without meaning. 
Still half dreaming he began thinking that people who disliked 
war should get themselves naturalised in Switzerland or Bel- 
gium, which were neutral countries. Let them get naturalised 
quickly. . . . Not naturalise them? Who? ... What was 
that? Some fetish . . . Hegel? A mere fantasy .. . 

As Eiichi stayed in bed unusually late his father opened the 
shutters himself to say his prayers. Generally he called Eiichi 
to get up and open the shutters, but this morning he said nothing, 
so Etichi stayed in bed. 

Eiichi heard a voice at the entrance call “Paper,” and then 
there was the sound of the paper being thrown in. He thought 
that he would read the paper as a change from the study of dry 
philosophy. One could pass the time very comfortably reading 
the paper: there were many people who spent their whole lives 
contentedly reading the papers. But if they did nothing but read 
the papers they would not be able to get any food. . . . How- 
ever, he would read the paper eal he thought, and he got up 

178 


ie in 


THE BEDCLOTHES 179 


and went in his nightgown to the entrance, where he squatted 
down and began to read the paper. 

The leading article was something about the crisis in China. 
. . . Ah, the country of Lao-tse and Chuang-tse was in danger, 
eh? Well, it was none of his business if she were destroyed 
or not... . As long as he was left alive they could destroy 
it as much as they liked. Even if the country was invaded and 
he was killed, his spirit would survive, and as long as his spirit 
survived it would be all right. The talk about a crisis in China 
was all a pretence on the part of those fellows in order to make 
a great noise in the world, and it was no business of his. 

He skimmed over the first page and turned to the second. It 
was filled with telegrams from London, New York and other 
places about all sorts of things. Among them was an account 
of an unprecedentedly grand ball, and in glancing through it he 
thought that he should like to attend such a ball and dance him- 
self with a Western beauty. ‘The third page was filled with an 
account of the suicide by drowning of a beautiful girl at Omori, 
another suicide at the Kegon waterfall, the kidnapping of a 
young girl, and so on. Looking at the account of the suicide 
of the beautiful girl at Omori he saw it was stated that the sui- 
cide was due to the faithlessness of her lover. How fortunate 
the man must be who was loved by a beautiful girl like that! 
‘The suicide at the Kegon waterfall was due to disappointment in 
love. It would have been better to wait and get another beau- 
tiful girl to love you. It was a strange way to win the heart 
of a girl, to go and do funny acrobatic feats at the expense of 
your life. Yet he felt some sympathy with the lover. 

Reading these accounts he thought what a strange thing love 
was. Lovers were fortunate. Such incidents as these, which 
showed the value attached to love, made him recall his own rela- 
tions with Tsuruko. He kissed the newspaper. 

He looked at the advertisements on the fourth page and saw 
announcements of new novels and works on philosophy. One 
was a Study of Lotze by Iwanaga, to which was attached a long 
puff. ‘The price was one yen seventy sen. Looking at this 
advertisement he felt as if he himself was a failure in the 
struggle for existence. If he gave up his ideas of social and 
family reform and continued his studies for two or three years 
he could easily write a book like that. He remembered that he 


180 BEFORE THE DAWN 


had recently told Tsuruko that he intended to write a book on 
philosophy, but now he felt that he had not the heart or the 
strength to write even one page. He felt inclined to tear the 
paper into pieces in disgust, but turning over the page he came 
upon a column that he had not noticed before, containing some 
account of books just published. Among them was a criticism 
of Iwanaga’s Study of Lotze, in which it was stated that the 
style was so obscure that readers would find it difficult to see the 
point of the argument. “Ah,” said Eiichi, “if that is all the 
criticism I get if I write a book, what’s the use? It would be 
horrible.” 

He threw the newspaper down and went back into the inner 
room, meeting Umé, who was going to say her prayers. She 
went out on the verandah muttering something about his not 
having put away his bedclothes. Eiichi did not answer, but com- 
menced putting on his clothes, thinking all the time how stupid 
it was being a teacher at an elementary school from which no 
satisfaction was to be got, and how such persons as he were not 
considered by society as worth even a penny. He decided to do 
without any breakfast and to go upstairs and read philosophy, so 
hurriedly rolled up his bedclothes and shoving them into the 
cupboard in the entrance, he rushed upstairs to his study and sat 
down by his desk. 

What should he read? He had borrowed two books from the 
Christian missionary the other day, and he felt that he should 
like to read about the Christian doctrines and’ study the history 
of its teachings from the materialistic point of view. Which 
book should he begin with, Harnack or Hall? The missionary 
had told him to beware of Harnack, as he was a heretic, so Eiichi 
thought he should like to read him. But Harnack’s work was in 
five volumes. If he was to finish the book that day it would be 
best to read Hall, as it was only three hundred and sixty pages 
and he could do it easily. Yet Harnack seemed more profitable 
as it was more voluminous. Suppose he put a volume of each on 
his desk and compared them. 

Harnack was very clearly printed on smooth paper. Hall 
was printed in big type on delicate paper that seemed like 
Japanese. Which should he read? He decided that Harnack 
was most promising, and putting Hall back into the bookcase he 
propped his head on his hands and began to read Harnack. Then 


THE BEDCLOTHES 181 


he began to think what he was reading the book for. Would 
he become famous if he read it? If he told Tsuruko that he 
was reading Harnack she would probably say, ““What a scholar 
you are!” and give him a kiss. But Tsuruko had gone to Hiro- 
shima. . . . Yes, she would be riding in the train now and 
would have got to somewhere about Okayama. ' He did not know 
the country west of Okayama, but Tsuruko was probably admir- 
ing the beautiful scenery. There would be a letter from her 
to-morrow. Perhaps she would write: “Separated from my be- 
loved I was so sad that the sunset in the Inland Sea passed un- 
observed. What enjoyment was there to me in the beauties of 
nature? Only my gaze was turned south and your beautiful 
form was in my vision: only I kept wishing that I had wings 
that I might fly into thy arms. My sleeves were wet with un- 
conscious tears.” “There would be phrases in the letter like that 
probably. He would reply as simply as possible in the fashion- 
able style: “The form of my beloved as she stood on the deck! 
Whether I shut my eyes or open them your form is always be- 
fore me. ‘The kiss you once gave me in your study,—how can 
I ever forget it? With nowhere to go to amuse myself every 
evening I open my study window and look out. But the mistress 
is absent and the house is closed. You have departed eternally 
and I weep.” 

That was the way he would write he decided. Busy with 
such fancies he had not the least idea what he was reading about. 

“This won’t do,” he thought. ‘My special aptitude is for 
philosophy, and I mustn’t let ideas of women interfere with my 
studies.” He concentrated his attention and commenced read- 
ing again from the beginning. This time he understood a little 
of what he was reading, and he was just beginning to feel 
pleased with his power of concentration when he heard a voice 
down below saying, “Master Eiichi, you put your bedclothes 
away without folding them up.” 

Tt was Umé calling from the entrance; she was again giving: 
vent to her impudence. Wasn’t it all right the way he had rolled 
up and put away the things? He wasn’t going to do any more 
and he pretended not to hear and went on reading his book. 
Then Kichisaburo came upstairs. 

“Young master,” he said, “the mistress says you’re to fold up 
your bedclothes and put them away.” 


182 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Eiichi took absolutely no notice of him and went on reading 
his book. ‘Then the maidservant came up. 

“Young master,” she said, “they ask if you will have break- 
fast and also if you will kindly fold up and put away your bed- 
clothes in the entrance.” 

To this message he returned no answer. ‘The servant waited 
silently for the answer, however, and out of pity for her Eiichi 
said, “You can go downstairs.” 

‘This was no answer to the message, but the servant went down- 
Stairs. 

“She keeps watch on me every day, down to my bedclothes,” 
he thought. “It makes me angry to see the wench.” 

He jumped up and went downstairs. When he got to the 
entrance he found Umé folding up the bedclothes very care- 
fully with an intent look on her face. Eiichi marched up, 
snatched the bedclothes from her hands, and with a muttered 
“Impudence,” hastily folded them and bundled them into the 
cupboard, shutting the door with a bang. 

“Ugh!” said Umé. “What a funny creature you are, when 
a person’s folding them up for you not to let them do it. You 
can be as obstinate as you like. To pay you out, I won’t have 
the bedclothes washed for you, however dirty they be.” 

Umé gave a sneering laugh, and Eiichi’s father came out and 
struck Eiichi quickly over the cheek and ear with a long tobacco 
pipe he was carrying. Ejichi fell down with a cry, but soon 
jumped up again and went out of the house. He did not return 
all day, but spent the day on the mountains in meditation. ‘Then 
at night, till about nine o’clock, he wandered round the votive- 
offering hall of the Seimi shrine. But it was so cold that he 
was forced to return home. ‘The spirit that had enabled him to 
spend three days fasting on Mount Oasa had disappeared, 
Dejected he stood before the shut gate of his father’s house in 
the drizzling rain that was now falling. Time passed, but no 
one came to open the gate and Eiichi wept like a girl. After 
the lapse of an hour, however, the maidservant opened the back 
door and he got her to let him in. 


CHAPTER XXI 


Incendiarism 


RRRRRKRKMRKKK KKK 


LETTER arrived with the words “From somebody at 

Hiroshima” written in a feminine hand on the back of 

the envelope. Of course it was from Tsuruko. She 
wrote about how dear he was to her and how she wondered 
whether she would be able to study at Hiroshima for three 
years, separated from her beloved. But when he looked through 
the letter there was nothing in it about their being joined for 
ever as husband and wife, or about a public announcement of 
their betrothal. Not only that, but he had some doubt whether 
she really did pine for him. When he thought of his relations 
with T’suruko and with his father and Umé he felt that he 
should like to die at once. His own unhappy circumstances and 
the beauty of ‘Tsuruko convinced him that they would never 
become husband and wife. 

Thinking thus he resigned himself to his fate. Let what 
would happen: he desired to die. If he could not die naturally 
he would like to kill some one and so meet death. This des- 
perate feeling, which had overcome him in spite of himself, 
suggested to him that he set fire to the house. He went into the 
kitchen to get some matches, and thought he would try to set 
light to the screens in the entrance. Then it occurred to him 
that that would be too bold; so he went into the inner room and 
tried to set light to the screens there. He was afraid at first that 
he really might set the place alight; but then he decided that it 
did not matter. Let the place be reduced to ashes and himself 
too; it would be better than going on living. ‘There was some- 
thing pleasant in the thought of light, soft ashes. He applied 
a match to the second screen on the southern side. ‘There was 
a burst of flame, and he thought that the screen and the mats 


and the house itself would be burned down; but the fire went 
183 


184 BEFORE THE DAWN 


out. The flames went up to the top, but when they got to the 
lintel they went out. He thought he would try another screen, 
so he set a light to the third one on the south. In this he was 
more successful, the flames jumping up as though they were 
burning paper, and the screen smouldering very fiercely. He 
thought that if he tried again he might really set the house on 
fire, but then he reflected that it would make a great disturbance 
in the town and cause no end of bother, so he decided to refrain. 
Instead he set fire to T’suruko’s letter and burned it up. 

Luckily for him, while he was up to these tricks neither Umé 
nor his father nor Kichisaburo nor his brother Masunori came 
into the room. If they had come in he would have fought with 
them. But it was much better to avoid a quarrel, and congratu- 
lating himself on his escape, he slipped out of the house. But 
that day also he did not go to school. 

Where should he go? It was rainy, and he could not sit in 
meditation with crossed legs as he had done the day before at 
Yakko-ga-hara; and he had not the spirit to try again the vigil 
on Mount Oasa. He decided that he would just go and amuse 
himself at Komatsujima, and so he crossed the Tokushima 
Bridge, passed in front of the County Hall, went over Tomita 
Bridge, and got as far as the office of the Tokushima News. 
There he stopped to look at a copy of the paper which was 
hung up outside under the eaves. On the third page there were 
the usual poor illustrations to the feuilleton common in country 
papers, and below them, under the heading “Society News,” 
there appeared something like this:— 

“The story is a little old, but the other day, when the cele- 
bration of the opening of ‘Tomita Bridge was held at the Shiroi- 
totei Restaurant, two girls, one named Sanshichi from the 
Yamato, and the other Naruto from the Nishiki, were given 
handsome tips by the Mayor, and after the break up of the party 
the two girls were called by the Mayor to the Sangi teahouse 
and returned home stealthily early the next morning. Such 
conduct is quite to be expected from our up-to-date Mayor.” 

Eiichi was reminded of what a free and easy place the world 
is. If you had plenty of money it was a place where you could 
embrace a thousand girls at once. He thought painfully how he 
had unconsciously taken great paips to surround himself with 
the enclosure called morality, but the world, from remote an- 


INCENDIARISM 185 


tiquity, had been destroying the enclosure. Mankind, from of 
old, had found emancipation. What a strange world it was, he 
thought, as he trudged along towards Nakanocho in his heavy 
clogs. 

Before his eyes he saw the burning screen that he had set 
alight. ‘The fire had run up the screen with a burst of flame and 
when it had suddenly gone out he felt like Urashima * when he 
opened the jewel casket. “Those flames! He saw them still. 
Although they seemed to him to have gone out, he had left the 
house in such a hurry that they might have been still burning 
and to have now grown into a big fire. No, there could be no 
fire: the alarm bell was silent. 

But at any rate he had set fire to the house and Umé and his 
father would make terrible trouble about it. How cruelly they 
would set the police on him! In that case, even if he went to 
Komatsujima, he would not escape being locked up. He would 
be tied up. What were his father and Umé scheming at that 
moment? ‘That was what he would like to know. If he were 
a ghost he could hasten back to see, but he was a ghost in the 
flesh. 

While he was thus thinking the rain suddenly began to fall 
heavily, resounding on the roofs and the eaves and on his paper 
umbrella with a noise like a fall of pebbles. ‘The rattling of 
the jinrikisha and the noise made by the shopboys in putting up 
some of the shutters to keep out the rain were drowned in the 
noise made by the downpour. He did not know what to do. 
He had not the courage to walk to Komatsujima in that rain. 
But where should he go? Never mind, he would just walk 
about, and he walked on as leisurely as he could, like some one 
passing the time away. Just then three elementary school chil- 
dren came out of a side street. They were going to school, hold- 
ing up their heavy umbrellas, which had not prevented them from 
getting half wet. It was a pretty sight. 

Ejichi had supposed it must be eleven o’clock, but it was only 
half-past seven. He thought that he would go to the Nikenya, 

* The legend of Urashima relates that he was taken on the back of 
a turtle to the palace of the Sea-dragon under the sea, where he spent 
many hundreds of years, which, however, seemed to him like a few days. 
Desiring to return to the upper world, he was given a casket but warned 


not to open it. He returned to find his people long since dead, and, 
opening the casket in despair, he was changed into an old man. 


186 BEFORE THE DAWN 


and got as far as the police station at the corner of Omichi. 
Then he saw that it would be impossible for him to get to 
Komatsujima, and that being the case it occurred to him that he 
might call on his aunt, who lived in Higashi Shinmachi, as he 
had not seen her for some time. Should he go to his aunt’s? — 
to that dirty little house, full of children to see that indigent, 
querulous, ignorant old aunt of his? Better not, better not! 
He could stand her perhaps for thirty minutes or an hour, but 
for three or four hours it would be unendurable. He knew 
exactly what his aunt would talk about: 

“You know, Eiichi, even though we are so poor there ain’t 
one of our relations will come and help us.. Look how rich 
brother at Shibafu has got, and he won’t lend usa penny. Even 
when I go to see him, which I do very rarely, he never asks me 
to bide the night. Then brother in ‘Tokushima-honcho,—he’s 
come to be Mayor, and a member of the Diet. He’s got on 
something wonderful, but he don’t even come to pay me the 
compliments of the season. When I’m in difficulties and ask 
him for the loan of two or three yen, he says he ain’t got the 
money in the house and he can’t oblige me for the present. 
That’s the way he puts me off. ‘Then father, you know, he 
never does any ee but just loiters about. Really life ain’t 
worth living... .” 

That was ihe War she went maundering on in her country dia- 
lect. It was unendurable. He had met her the other day in the 
street and she had asked him to call on her, and as he didn’t 
call on her very often he felt rather sorry and went to see her, 
listening to her tale of woe in silence. If he wanted to hear 
such sorrowful talk, he thought, it would be far better to go to 
the Daishido at Taki and listen to the sad tales of the beggar- 
pilgrims by the roadside. He might as well go to see his aunt, 
but then he must be prepared to be made miserable. Could he 
do that? At home he had trouble enough. Was it necessary 
that he should have trouble when he went outside? 

He went along Omichi asking himself such questions. He 
knew that he was walking along Omichi, but somehow or other 
everything was blank to him, although his eyes were open to 
what was going on, and in the shops on both sides of him people 
were carrying on their business. He knew there were second- 
hand furniture dealers and watch-makers and pawnbrokers and 


INCENDIARISM EST, 


so on among them, but he could not distinguish clearly between 
the pawnbroker’s and the confectioner’s. He went along un- 
steadily, like one walking on a ball or riding on the wind. A 
dung-cart was coming along, but he paid no attention. ‘“‘Hi! 
Look out,” shouted the man, and Eiichi returned to earth. ‘The 
objective world to which he had been lost suddenly became clear 
to him. Here was the barber’s, the draper’s, here the green- 
grocer’s. Now he could distinguish between them. 

He decided that he would go to his aunt’s, and turning back 
to the police station at the corner, went along the second street 
on the left, which was Higashi Shinmachi. On the left there 
was a long block of houses called Matsuura’s and his aunt’s 
house was the first in the block. He slid back the wicket and 
went in, finding his aunt engaged in cleaning. 

“Oh, Eiichi, what’s the matter to-day?” she asked in aston- 
ishment. “Ain’t you going to school?” ‘Then, before he could 
answer, she asked him if he had come on business. 

“No, nothing particular,” he said. “My head feels strange 
and I feel as though I were going to have a nervous attack, so 
I’m not going to school just now. As it’s raining and it’s not 
very amusing at home, I thought I’d come and see you.” 

“Oh, that’s it, is it?” said his aunt, smiling. ‘Do come in.” 

“I hear brother’s made a lot of this,” she went on while 
Eiichi was going in, and she made a ring with her thumb and 
first finger in explanation. 

Ejxichi looked grim and replied that he did not know. 

“There ain’t any reason for your not knowing when ye live 
in the same house,” said his aunt, and she sidled up to Eiichi and 
tapped him on the back. 

“I don’t know anything about it,” said Eiichi doggedly. 

But his aunt was not to be silenced. 

“Tomita Bridge and that dyke at Hama, you know,” she 
went on. “It doesn’t do to know too much, does it?” 

‘This was unendurable. 

“T tell you I don’t know,” he said. ‘Do you mean my father 
has received bribes in connection with Tomita Bridge and the 
dyke?” 

“That’s what people say,” replied his aunt, and she smirked 
with a very knowing air. 


“Oh!” said Eiichi. “Well, I don’t know anything about it.” 


188 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“There, it don’t do to know too much. Father heard the 
story and brought it home, and then the foreman of the navvies, 
who comes regularly from Ojo, looked in the other day. There’s 
all sorts of stories going about. ‘There’s a rumour that brother 
did a very clever trick.” 

“Can such a thing be done?” 

“There, you must know Sakagi of Ushiyajima,—Sakagi who 
lives at the village next to Umazumé? He married our Hana, 
you know.” 

“Yes, I know,” said Eiichi, and he recalled that when he was 
going to the elementary school his cousin Hana had married a 
man named Sakagi of Ushiyajima, although they were divorced 
later. 

“He’s engaged now in the engineering works,” continued his 
aunt. ‘As he’s on friendly terms with brother, brother used 
him to play a fine trick on ’em and did em proper. If I was to 
tell ye, ye’d get rare angry I expect. But, Eiichi, you'd better 
go upstairs. They’re all out at school or somewhere to-day. 
Just go upstairs, won’t ye?” 

“Thank you,” said Eiichi, and he followed his aunt up the 
small, steep staircase. | 

“T’ll get some fire,” said his aunt. “You won’t mind every- 
thing being dirty, will ye?” 

As she said, everything was in disorder. “There were two 
rooms, one twelve feet by nine feet and the other twelve feet 
by six feet, but the partition between them had been removed. 
Near the window were two small desks. “These belonged to two 
girls, relatives of his aunt, who were attending the girls’ school, 
and for looking after whom his aunt received something every 
month which was intended to help her along. Besides the desks, 
there were baskets and bags, all open, and unfolded clothes scat- 
tered about in disorder. Eiichi sat down in the middle of the 
room, and his aunt put an empty brazier in front of him and 
sat down. 

“T don’t want any fire. I don’t smoke,” said Eiichi. 

“Don’t ye really?” said his artless, easy-going aunt. “Well, 
as I ain’t sure whether there’s any fire or not downstairs I won’t 
bring any.” 

“T wonder how father can do that sort of thing,” said Eiichi. 

“‘Ain’t it proper he should?” said his aunt. ‘‘What’s the use 


INCENDIARISM 189 


of being Mayor if one can’t? As he only gets a salary of twelve 
hundred yen a year or thereabouts, it stands to reason he couldn’t 
keep*up that big house on that.” 

His aunt spoke as if there were nothing out of the way in 
the Mayor’s conduct. 

“But, aunt,” said Eiichi, “there’s a Municipal Council, you 
know, and a Municipal Assembly, and even the erection of the 
smallest bridge is a matter of consultation among them all, 
isn’t it?” 

“Yes, but you know if people scent money they soon fall into 
line. Folks are smart nowadays and go where the money is. 
Even if that wasn’t so, these contracts, you know, they take time 
to put through, and if the Mayor himself undertakes to see that 
the work’s done, that’s all there is to it.” 

There was a look of exultation on his aunt’s thin face as she 
gave this explanation. ; 

Eiichi picked up a copy of the Girls? World that was lying 
near him, and looking at the contents saw that there were some 
very interesting articles in it. 

“People nowadays, even girls, buys all sorts of books to read 
—magazines and novels and such like—don’t they?” said his 
aunt on seeing this, ‘They spends money on ’em something ter- 
rible. ‘There’s that Tokyo paper—‘Pock’ is it or ‘Puck’? It’s 
terrible amusing. We had an old one here somewhere, with a 
picture in it of a girl waiting for her lover to come home from 
a card-party, and one of the lover too—it was terrible clever, it 
was. I wonder where it’s gone to; it used+to be somewhere 
here,” and she got up and looked about the desks, but although 
she turned over all kinds of magazines she couldn’t find it. 

“T can’t find it,” she said at last, and came and sat down 
again. 

Eiichi was absorbed in the Girls? World. 

“Have ye found something amusing, Eiichi?” asked his aunt, 
peeping into the magazine. “Do read us a bit if it’s amusing.” 

Eiichi was glancing through an article on the manners of 
schoolgirls all the world over, and he merely murmured “Yes” 
in an absent manner in reply to his aunt’s request. He had 
apparently forgotten that he was in his aunt’s house. He was 
chuckling to himself over an account of the freedom of the 
love affairs of American schoolgirls. 


190 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Ts it funny!” asked his aunt, looking up into his face. “Do 
tell me about it.” 

But Eiichi only went on reading, and his aunt, a little out of 
countenance, got up and went towards the staircase. 

“Yell stop and have dinner with us, Eiichi, won’t you?” she 
said. ‘“There’s nothing very nice, but if you ain’t got to go 
home you might as well.” 

“Thank you,” said Eiichi curtly, and went on reading. 

But when his aunt had gone downstairs Eiichi began to think 
that he ought to have been a little more polite. She had asked 
him to stay to dinner, in spite of her poverty, because he was her 
nephew, and an extra mouth to feed would no doubt put her 
to some trouble, unlike what was formerly the case. . .. Per- 
haps she really invited him to stay to dinner from the fulness 
of her heart, and it pleased him to be invited in that way. He 
felt sorry for her. His uncle, by riotous living and the keeping 
of separate establishments, had ended in bankruptcy, although 
the Ois of Ojo had formerly been known in all the neighbour- 
ing villages as a very rich family. That was at the time of 
the Emperor’s restoration. It was all his uncle’s fault and his 
aunt was not to blame. She was really greatly to be pitied. The 
same fate overhung his own family, Eiichi thought. 

As he turned over the pages of the Girls? World, reading a 
little here and there, all sorts of memories rose in his mind. ‘The 
last time he had called on his aunt his uncle was there, and his 
uncle had told a story about a person being bewitched by a 
badger and had earnestly stated his belief in badgers bewitching 
people. Eiichi recollected that his aunt had told him that his 
uncle had lately become ‘very pious, and did nothing but go to 
worship at the shrine of Daijingu at Aiba-no-hama and repeat 
some sort of incantation in his spare time. ‘There appeared to 
Eiichi, as if in a dream, the form of his uncle, with his rapidly 
whitening crop of close-trimmed hair, his pointed, stubbly chin, 
his deeply wrinkled, thin-cheeked face, the colour of bronze, 
doing nothing all day but loiter about the streets. The vision 
gave Eiichi a forlorn feeling. "There was a smell of dirty 
clothes in the room. He noted the torn screens placed against 
the wall. The waste paper thrown under the desk seemed to 
him inexpressibly untidy. ‘There was a sooty cobweb in a corner 
of the ceiling, and three or four inches of string were hanging 


INCENDIARISM 191 


down in a very unsightly way. The mats were dirty. Out of 
the window at the back could be seen outhouses, drying places 
and potato fields, and behind that the ugly chimneys of some 
medical baths, all out of proportion and “making him feel sick. 
The leaden sky, which showed no sign of clearing, also oppressed 
him, and he felt an inclination to go away. But there was 
nowhere to go and he continued to read the magazine. It was 
rather interesting and dinner-time came before he was aware 
of it. 

For dinner there were soup and rice and pickles. When he 
had finished he wondered what he should do next, as he had all 
the afternoon to get through. He thought that if he went up- 
stairs and read the magazines or something the day would grad- 
ually wear away, so he went upstairs and read until the girls 
came back from school at four o’clock. ‘The quick passage of 
time struck him anew, and he felt that his aunt would think 
that he was staying too long. He made some sort of parting 
compliment, therefore, and left the house rather awkwardly. 
But he did not know what to do next or where to go. The rain 
had slackened slightly as the evening approached. ‘There was 
nothing for it but to stop at an inn for the night. ‘Yes, that 
was a good idea. He had about two yen and twenty sen with 
him, and though this would not pay for a first-class lodging it 
was more than enough for second-class and would leave him 
fifty sen over. But where should he go? To the Nikenya? 
Yes, the Nikenya. But it would look strange if he went so early 
for a lodging. Should he go to the Kompira temple at Seimi 
just to while away the time? He acted on the idea and wended 
his way to Seimi in a futile sort of way. ‘The thought of his 
own futility occurred to him as amusing and he smiled as he 
mounted the steps to the temple. He went at once into the 
ex voto hall and sat down at a little cake-stall, where he ate a 
piece of sweetmeat. He expected to find it delicious, but it 
seemed to him tasteless. ‘The whole of Tokushima could be 
seen from the hall, but the view did not attract him. The 
houses seemed to him to be arranged in a meaningless manner; 
the people to be wandering about in an aimless way. Here and 
there smoke was rising in the air aimlessly. Eiichi thought that 
the life he was leading, wandering about all day, was not an 
unpleasant one. It was much better than that of a statesman, 


192 BEFORE THE DAWN 


proudly followed by a large retinue. ‘To wander about at his 
own free will had become very pleasant to him. 

Before he had been there long the old cake-woman began to 
shut up her stall. “Should he go home?” he thought. If he did 
not go home where should he go? It was yet too early to go 
to an inn, and he decided that he would go slowly to the end of 
the street where the Nikenya was. He went down the temple 
steps in his high clogs, and saw at the bottom there was a police- 
box in which the policeman was busily engaged in writing some- 
thing. This seemed so futile to Eiichi that he smiled to him- 
self. Coming out by the draper’s the thought came to him that 
all these futile people required clothes to conceal their shame. 
When he got to the end of the street it was not yet dark. A 
little longer, he thought, and at last reached Hokkei Bridge, a 
distance of over two miles. It was rapidly growing dark, and 
he decided that if he turned back then he would just reach the 
inn in proper time. He turned round in the suburbs, therefore, 
and went back towards the town. When he got to the street 
he saw that next to the Nikenya there was a rice-cleaning shop 
and next to that a blacksmith’s. Opposite all these was a field, 
but after that there were houses on the other side of the road. 
Next to the blacksmith’s was a cheap lodging-house. Suppose 
he stopped there for the night, just as an experiment, he thought. 
He felt a little timid, however, as he wore a cap and an elaborate 
kimono. But it would never do to be timid. All the lights were 
lit in the houses and there was no one to see him. He walked 
past for a few yards and then came back. 

“Good evening,” he said. ‘Could you put me up for the 
night?” 

A red-faced, hairy man of about forty was sitting in front of 
a brazier taking his evening dram. 

“Tt’s a small place,” the man replied, peering up at En1ichi, 
“but you can stop if you want to. Had your supper?” 

“Not yet,” said Ejichi. 

“T’ll give ye a pot,” said the man, “and ye can make a fire 
in that brazier and cook it.” 

“How about rice and charcoal?” asked Eiichi. 

“How much rice do ye want?” asked the man. “Can ye eat 
a pint?” 


— 


INCENDIARISM 193 


“Yes, about that will do,” said Eiichi. 

The man measured out a pint of rice from a chest below 
the dark Buddhist altar and put it in an earthenware pot. 

“Ye can wash the rice at the well out at the back,” he said 
as he handed it to Eiichi. 

Out at the back a woman was tending a fire in a stove. She 
looked at Eiichi for a moment when he went out. Eiichi, think- 
ing that this was the first time in his life that he had washed 
rice, drew some water from the well as he looked across the rice= 
fields. A slight drizzle was falling and Mount Seimi could be 
only dimly discerned. It was a sorrowful, wet scene, and yet 
there was an indescribable charm about it. 

While Eiichi was washing the rice he thought what a ro- 
mantic person he was. Romance! ... Freedom of the will! 
. . . There was something sad about it. And yet, what happi- 
ness was his! Yes, happiness! Never had he experienced such a 
delightful moment. He was actually going to cook his own rice 
on that rainy night. 

He washed the rice and took it in. 

“Pll give ye some charcoal,” said the landlord. “I reckon 
two sen worth will be enough for ye.” 

The man gave him the charcoal and telling him he would 
show him where the brazier was, pushed back the screens of a 
room neighbouring the small basement. The room was about 
three yards by five in size, with a dim lamp hanging in the 
middle, and was so dark that you could not see into the corners. 
But Eiichi made out that there were three couples sleeping in 
the room. One couple had a child sleeping between them, and 
another couple had taken off their clothes and spread them on 
top of the coverlet. Although there were Mosquitoes in the 
room, there did not appear to be any mosquito curtain. In the 
corner by the door there was a metal brazier, 

““That’s it,”” said the landlord, pointing, 

Fortunately there were some sparks of fire in the brazjer and 
Ejichi’s charcoal, when he put it in, began to burn. He thought 
the cooking of the rice would be a long process, so he sat down 
in front of the brazier, but still the sight of the three couples 
sleeping was before his eyes, 

In about seventeen or eighteen minutes the pot began to boil. 


194 BEFORE THE DAWN 


He wondered whether he ought to take the lid off, and as he 
thought the fire would go out if he did not, he took it off and 
watched the water boiling. 

A voice seemed to cry in his head “Free! Free!” Philosophi- 
cal questions were too puzzling, he felt. Henceforward he 
would only have the joy of objective existence, and he watched 
in wonder the grains of rice jumping about as though they were 
wrestling with each other. Still the voice in his head cried 
“Free! Free!” 

The rice was done. He could begin to eat, and he took the 
cup and chopsticks he had borrowed, and the pickled plums and 
dried fish that the landlord had brought, and began to eat eag- 
erly. 

Just as he had begun to eat a close-cropped man of about 
fifty, with almond eyes, came in. His face was the colour of 
copper and he was apparently fond of saké. Yet there was 
something attractive about him. He seemed a little startled 
when he saw Eiichi, but Eiichi showed no concern. 

“Good evening,” said Eiichi, nodding. 

“Good evening,” said the man. ‘Raining hard, isn’t it?” 

He came into the room and sat down by the side of the brazier, 
at which he lit his pipe. 

“Excuse me,” he said, “but where do you live?” 

“T live here,” said Eiichi, “but I was born at Kobé.” 

“Oh! Kobé’s just across the water, isn’t it?” 

““And you?” asked Eiichi. 

“T come from Etchu.” 

“That’s a very long way,” said Eiichi. “What are you doing 
here?” 

The man gazed into the fire and was silent for a moment. 
Then with a glance round him, he said: “Well, I travel round 
the country promoting afforestation. Only, for the time be- 
ING Spat en 

‘He paused a moment. 

“Promoting afforestation,” thought Eiichi. “How big he 
talks,” and he looked at him and saw that his shirt was torn, 
and that his short-sleeved, lined kimono was patched in places. 
His appearance was certainly not very presentable. 

“What sort of places do you go to in your propaganda work?” 
he asked aloud. 


OE 


INCENDIARISM 195 


“Don’t speak so loud,” said the man. ‘“Everybody’s asleep.” 

Apparently he did not wish to be overheard. The man’s be- 
haviour appeared to Eiichi very strange. 

“I go from house to house,” continued the man in a low 
voice, “spending three days at this village and five days at that, 
calling from house to house and preaching the principle of 
afforestation.” 

“Really?” said Eiichi, in approval. ‘“That’s a fine idea.” 

“And what’s your business?” asked the man. 

“I have no business,” replied Eiichi. “I’m only a student. 
Lately I’ve been ill, so I’m just idling away the time.” 

“Yes? And where did you come from to-day?” 

Eiichi was puzzled how to answer, and for a little time the 
two were silent. It had apparently started raining heavily again, 
for there was a tremendous noise outside. Eiichi somehow felt 
very excited; his blood boiled in his veins. 

“What sort of people are these sleeping here?” he asked in 
a low voice, putting his head close to that of his companion. 

“Theyre all beggars,” replied the man, casting a look behind 
him. His manner in answering indicated that although he was 
lodging in the same house with beggars he did not regard him- 
self as belonging to the same station in life. 

“Are they all married?” asked Eiichi. 

“No, they always sleep that way at night. They don’t bother 
themselves about such matters.” 

“Really,” answered the astonished Eiichi. “Are they all 
beggars?” he continued. “How can they manage to live?” 

“They go round in the daytime begging rice, getting a little 
here and a little there till they get a dozen quarterns or so, and 
then they come here and sell it for three or four sen a quartern.” 

Exichi was lost in wonder; the talk was more interesting than 
his supper, although the rice and dried fish were unexpectedly 
delicious. He had four helpings and reserved the remainder for 
the morrow’s breakfast. 

“Where are you going to-morrow?” asked the man in a 
somewhat louder voice. 

“I really don’t know,” replied Eiichi. ‘I like to wander 
about.” 

“People won’t believe in me and my thission,” said the man, 
speaking half to himself. ‘“That’s what bothers me.” 


> 


196 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Why?” said Eiichi, as he put his cup and chopsticks away in 
the corner. 

“Well, my appearance is against me,’ 
Eiichi’s new kimono, 

“Oh, nothing matters,” said Eiichi, amused, “as long as you 
adhere to your principles.” 

“People in this world cannot read your heart,” answered the 
man. 

“Unless you disregard the opinion of others you cannot achieve 
your object in this world,” said Eiichi, as if he were reading 
the old man’s heart. ‘“Ihe important thing is to be true to 
yourself.” | 

““That’s true,” said the man in a changed tone. “I was a 
priest at the Korinji Temple in Etchu, but the priests to-day 
give themselves up to sensual pleasures in such a deplorable way 
that it’s better to live like a beggar. For the sake of our coun- 
try it is certainly better to sacrifice ourselves. So I left the 
temple and undertook the task of promoting afforestation, the 
importance of which had not occurred to other people. It is 
ten years this year since I left the temple, and all that time 
I have suffered all sorts of hardships and privations. . . . One 
is forced to think that the people of this world are all fools.” 

“Really?” said Eiichi. ‘You must have had a hard struggle.” 

“Yes, I have had a very hard time.” 

“But what are your ideas on afforestation?” 

“Well, there’s really nothing very abstruse about them. In 
our country trees are plentiful, but if the trees are all cut down 
for lumber, not only will the fine scenery be spoilt but the air of 
the towns will be rendered impure. Moreover, wood for build- 
ing houses will become scarce. ‘Therefore, it is necessary that all 
kinds of trees should be planted. Kiri comes first on the list of 
trees that we should cultivate, as it grows so quickly that it only 
takes thirty years for it to grow to a useful size. If each 
person in a house planted a kiri tree, what would be the result? 
That is what I go about the country asking. Japan has a popu- 
lation of fifty millions, and if everybody planted a tree, the 
result would be that there would be fifty million kiri trees. In 
thirty years these trees would be worth five yen each, and as five 
fives are twenty-five, there would be a capital of two hundred 


’ said the man, noting 


INCENDIARISM 197 


and fifty million yen, which would be a very good way of 
making money when Japan was impoverished by war, while 
neglecting it means additional poverty. After the war with 
China, therefore, I resolved to lay it before the country. But 
it’s very difficult to get people to listen.” 

His face wrinkled in a sombre smile and he bent his head as 
he filled his pipe. 

On the other side of the screens they heard angry shouts from 
the landlord, but at whom he was shouting they had no idea. 
The saké was beginning to take effect. 

This old man, Eiichi thought, had the youthful, patriotic 
spirit of Don Quixote. Yes, in these old men born in the feudal 
age a quixotic fervour bubbled up. Bushido had its roots in 
quixotism,—a solitary life. This old priest, with his unquench- 
able earnestness, appeared to him like a kiri tree which was 
withering in winter, dropping leaf after leaf, its thin grey- 
green trunk standing erect, with only two or three branches pro- 
jecting from the upper part of its trunk, shivering in the west 
wind. Yet he couldn’t help wondering whether the old man 
were an impostor. Nevertheless the class of people to be met 
with in common lodging-houses pleased him. 

‘And what has been the result?” he asked. 

But just at that moment there was a sound of something 
tumbling down the stairs and a woman was heard shrieking. 
The landlord was raving and crying, “You b h!” 

Eiichi stood up and opened the screen. At the bottom of the 
staircase, by the side of the shrine, a woman was lying crying. 
From above three or four brutal faces were peeping down, their 
eyes glittering. “They were a party of navvies. The landlord, 
with an impenetrable face, was again pouring himself out some “ 
saké, 

“What’s all the row about?” said one of the men at the top 
of the stairs, and then other voices broke in:—‘Sounded like 
some one being dragged downstairs”—“She was trying to bunk 
upstairs” —‘“She got as far as ’ere.” 

The old priest sat smoking his pipe composedly. The affair 
did not seem to excite him at all. 

“It’s the same every night,” he said. “It’s a great nuisance. 
Low-class people.” Eiichi had a feeling that he was witnessing 


198 BEFORE THE DAWN 


a scene in one of Gorki’s novels. He had a sense of oppression 
as of a weight on his chest. Yet the common lodging-houses 
were full of life; blood ran swiftly there. 

““That’s nothing,” said the man. ‘The night before last, for 
instance, there was a terrible fight. ‘The son came home, Ap- 
parently that woman is not the landlord’s real wife. ‘The son 
seems to be the child of the first wife. . . .” 

Eiichi wanted to hear more of the old man’s adventures, which 
seemed to him like a dream. 

‘What has been the result of your pYcpapandal he asked for 
the second time. 

“T can’t do anything now,” was the reply. “I look like a 
beggar, so people won’t believe in me.” 

Eiichi went to shut the screen and glancing out saw the land- 
lord quaffing his saké as though it were nectar. Eiichi felt as 
though he too were thirsty. ‘The six beggars were sleeping 
quietly. 

“I suppose, in short,” he said, “‘that it’s your appearance that 
keeps people from believing in you.” 

“Yes, I suppose that’s it. A month ago I had my scapulary, 
but while I was sleeping at a common lodging-house one night 
some one took my purse and other things, and I had only my 
scapulary left, so I had to leave it to pay my bill, Now I’m 
reduced to this ragged kimono. It’s no wonder people won’t 
believe in me.” 

“Yes, that’s it,” said Eiichi. ‘What do you say to exchanging 
kimonos?” 

“You’re only joking,” said the priest. “What, my lousy old 
kimono for your fine one?” and he would not listen to it. 

“Come,” said Eiichi, “let’s change—that is, if you don’t 
mind,” he insisted earnestly. 

“Don’t joke with me,” said the priest, protesting loudly. 

Eiichi thought that he would like to do something romantic. 

“Come,” he said, “how is it to be? What does it matter to 
me about a kimono or two? I don’t care even if I go naked. 
Won’t you take what I offer you? ‘Then perhaps you don’t know 
how to give to others.” 

Eiichi gave the affair a chivalrous atmosphere. 

“You greatly surprise me,” said the priest very earnestly, ‘‘and 
if you put it that way I really can’t refuse. Come, I will accept 


33 


INCENDIARISM 199 


your offer. But you are really extraordinary. One does not 
often meet people like you in the world.” 

Exichi took off his clothes and sat down by the brazier. The 
old priest also took off his kimono. Then the two smiled at each 
other and were silent. Outside it was raining heavily. Eiichi 
had done a romantic deed. He had given his clothes to another 
like a saint. He felt as if he were a saint himself; and smiling 
at the thought he rolled himself up in the wafer-like quilt and 
fell asleep. 


CHAPTER XXII 


Eiichi Leaves Home 


ot MMO MO MO OO 


ARLY the following morning while it was still dark, 
K Eiichi left the thin quilt he had hired for the night for 

five sen and, dressing himself in the ragged kimono, 
boldly returned to his father’s house. 

As he walked quickly along Omichi, from the foot of the 
Kompira Temple on Mount Seimi, he thought that really great 
people have reserves of energy and are not easily frightened at 
anything. “Life is merely a,mime,” he thought. ‘No special 
attention is paid to goodness; wickedness is certainly not con- 
sidered bad, and when wickedness is no longer censured, sym- 
pathy is felt with it and there is no scruple at doing wicked 
deeds. Virtue, on the other hand, like a jewel, grows rarer. 
Then is the crisis in life. A saint or a rascal? If neither, that 
is the time a man becomes a criminal.” 

‘Thinking of these things he came to the gate of the house. 
It was half-past five in the morning. 

Fiichi’s attempt to set fire to the house had caused great ex- 
citement the day before, and his father had stayed at home con- 
sulting with Umé as to what it would be best to do with Eiichi. 
As they could not hit on any plan to dispose of him they called 
in Hiroshi Miki, the doctor, and, warning him that he was not 
to let anybody know, they told him of Eiichi’s mad act. 

Miki inquired into all the circumstances, and then, without 
further ado, suggested that Eiichi should be sent to a lunatic 
asylum. 

“If it gets into the papers that my son has gone mad with 
love,” said the Mayor, smiling, “it will injure me in my office 
as Mayor, and it would therefore be best to dispose of him pri- 
vately as far as possible.” 


There being no other plan, however, they decided to send 
200 


EITICHI LEAVES HOME 201 


him to the Minatogawa Asylum at Kobé, as there was no lunatic 
asylum at Tokushima. 

‘That was why they were all sleeping so peacefully that 
morning. 

When the gate was opened Ejichi went in. He asked the 
servant whether his father was still sleeping, and being told 
that he was, Eiichi went into the back room. 

In the back room the night-light was still burning and 
Masunori, Umé and his father were still sleeping. Eiichi sat 
down quietly by his father’s pillow. 

“Father,” he said, “I am here—Eiichi. I have come back as 
I have something I wish to tell you.” 

He spoke in as gentle a voice as possible and touched his father 
to wake him up. In a little time his father opened his eyes and, 
speaking as if still half asleep, said: “Is that you, Eiichi? Tve 
got some business with you to-day, so don’t go out.” 

He spoke very gently. 

“What business have you with me, father?” asked Eiichi. 

But his father hid his head under the coverlet and was silent. 
That his father, who generally ignored him, should say this 
seemed to Eiichi remarkably suspicious. He waited for a little 
time in silence till his father, thrusting his head out of the cover- 
let, looked at Umé. 

“T’ve got some business with you to-day, Eiichi,” he said, “so 
you mustn’t leave the room upstairs.” 

He gave the order sternly. 

“Master, the post has come,” said the servant, and she brought 
the letters to his bedside. | 

Eiichi thought that there must be a letter from Tsuruko among 
them, and with his heart beating fast he looked at the four or 
five letters that the servant had brought. Was there a letter? 
He noticed one envelope that contained a thick, heavy letter and 
thought that must be it. 

“This is my letter,” he said, and took it up and broke the 
seal. 

While he was reading it his limbs trembled and he felt greatly 
excited. It seemed to him that Tsuruko had no real regard for 
him. She repeated many times that she intended to pass the 
remainder of her life in celibacy, and under her words he read 
some dissatisfaction with the Niimi family. Not that she meant 


202 BEFORE THE DAWN 


to break off the connection with Eiichi, but she had no longer 
the courage to keep love at white heat. Yet she seemed to be 
anxious that it should not grow cold. ‘The whole tone of the 
letter was negative. Eiichi felt as if he had been cast out of 
the world. ‘If I had only known,” he cried inwardly, and 
he thought sorrowfully that he had been betrayed by ‘I’suruko. 
Well, it could not be helped. She referred repeatedly to the 
school regulations, and how she could not continue to carry on 
the correspondence. In a postscript she added that the letter 
had been written by the light in the passage after the order for 
“lights out” had been given. | 

Reading the letter was so unbearable that he jumped up and 
thought he would go upstairs to his study. He threw open the 
screens and went upstairs, but was surprised to find that his study 
had been turned upside down and was now being used as a 
place for airing the quilts. His anger make Tsuruko’s faithless- 
ness to him still more unbearable, and he could not restrain his 
tears. He rushed into the other room and threw himself down 
and wept,—long, long,—till his cheeks ached. But still his 
tears fell. They left him trembling all over. He must have 
been crying a long time he thought when Masunori came up- 
stairs. 

“Father says you mustn’t go to school to-day,” said Masunori. 

Eiichi asked himself why, but could find no explanation. 
Only dread of the future and apprehensions caused by the up- 
setting of his room mingled together in his imagination and 
made his pulse beat faster. But that would not do. To fear 
the future or to tremble because his room had been thrown into 
disorder was unworthy’ of a man of principle, he thought, and 
he got up and went to the window and looked out at the clear 
morning sky, thinking how well it harmonised with the green of 
the old pine trees growing along the river bank. Somebody had 
put her head out of a window in the dormitory of the girls’ 
needlework school and was looking in his direction. How im- 
pudent, he thought, and with the idea that he was quite un- 
suited to live in such a shameless world, he withdrew into the 
room again and sat down in a corner. He read ‘Tsuruko’s letter 
again, and while he was reading it his father came upstairs 
calling, “Eiichi, where are you?” But Eiichi did not reply. 

“Eiichi,” said his father, when he found him sitting in the 


EIICHI LEAVES HOME 203 


corner, “as your mind is upset I think you’d better give up the 
school for a time and rest. What do you say?” 

His father’s colour had changed. 

“Father,” replied Eiichi, “my mind is not upset in any way. 
I am not mad or anything like it.” 

His father stared at the ragged kimono Eiichi was wearing. 

“Why then did you set the house on fire and cut the pillars in 
the alcove?” he asked angrily. 

Ejichi expected this question. 

“I wish you nothing but well, father,” he said. “I want you 
to understand what is in my heart.” 

His father gave a scornful laugh. 

“Wish me well?” he said harshly. ‘“You’re mad. How can 
you help me?” 

“If my father did not give himself up to pleasure with Umé 
and other women,” said Eiichi, speaking as if to himself in a 
mournful voice, “I should not be mad.” 

He was silent for a time, but the thought was running through 
his head, “I suppose people of my sort are always considered 
mad.” 

“What’s that kimono you’ve got on?” asked his father. “Can 
you say you’re not mad when you come back in a kimono like 
that?” and he laughed again. 

“Elichi,” went on his father in a somewhat changed tone, 
“even if your mind is now clear, when it gets disturbed again it 
will give us great anxiety. While your mind is calm and until 
there is no more danger of your going mad you must enter an 
asylum.” 

At hearing himself sentenced to be taken to a lunatic asylum, 

Eiichi suddenly stood up and approached his father. 

“Go to an asylum?” he said, staring at his father. ‘Yes, I 
will go; I will do as you say. If you are afraid lest I hurt 
you or your wife I will do as you tell me... . Only, when 
will my father do as I want him to?” 

Eiichi hesitated for a moment and then boldly went up to 
his father and caught hold of his sleeve, as if he had become 
a child with a child’s simplicity again. 

“Father,” he asked, “why are you sending me to such a place 
as an asylum?” 

But his father only glared at him. 


204 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“When your expression becomes like that of other persons,” he 
said, “I will take you out. Let go of me. Let go, let go, I say,” 
and his father tried to tear himself away. 

“Father,” said Eiichi, “‘we shall not meet again. Your road 
and mine lie far apart. JI will take leave of you, father. I 
must follow my road in haste. Follow you the old road that 
leads to destruction. Instead of a small asylum I am going into 
the big lunatic asylum that is called the world. I must bid you 
farewell. Good-bye, father—good-bye, O father that brought 
me into the world. Accept this my parting salutation, for it is 
the last time that I shall look upon you.” 

Then bowing to his father Eiichi dried his tears and left the 
house. 

Outside the morning sun was shining and unconsciously Eiichi 
murmured, “‘How is it that such darkness reigns within the 
Japanese household when all outside is so bright?” 

That night, after having borrowed a little money from his 
aunt, Ejichi travelled third-class on the steamer to Kobé. He 
was still dressed in the beggar-priest’s ragged robe. 


CHAPTER XXIII 
In the Depths 


ARR RM MM MK MOM OM OM x Ox 


IICHI landed at Kobé, but refrained from calling at the 
kK office in Kajiya-cho. Instead he went directly to the 

labour exchange in Minato-machi, which sent him to a 
dockers’ lodging-house in Higashide-machi. 

Etichi believed that this was the bitter cup that he was destined 
_ to drink. When he asked the head of the labour exchange to 
send him to a factory somewhere, he was told that as business 
was dull there was no opening anywhere, but finally he was sent 
to the dockers’ lodging-house in Higashide-machi. 

Life in the dockers’ lodging-house was very hard. ‘There 
were, On an average, two men for every mat, and they were put 
to sleep in small, low-ceilinged rooms that were like store- 
rooms. Elichi’s ideas of revolution, Socialism, and idealism dis- 
appeared in a flash. He saw that the workers were too degraded 
to permit of social reform. He was sent every day to help the 
dockers; one time he had to carry pieces of pig-iron on his 
shoulder. His ideal was to look after the winches, but he 
realised that it was only an ideal. He saw that even to become a 
dock-labourer required some training, and he soon got the nick- 
name of “Greenhorn” in the lodging-house. He thought that 
the work which would suit him best would be carrying cement 
for the tilers. He applied for such work every day, and finally 
he was hired by a labourer who worked in the district from 
Wakinohama to Mikagé. His idealism was certainly dead, but 
in that position he thought that he would try to spend his days 
happily. 

He soon made an acquaintance. This was an ex-convict who 
had served two sentences,—a man named Sakai, about fifty years 
of age, who was foreman of the labourers. This man for some 
Teason was particularly kind to him. After he had been fifteen 

205 


206 BEFORE THE DAWN 


days in the dockers’ lodging-house Eiichi began to look forward 
with some pleasure to receiving his wages, but at the end of the 
month he was disappointed. It did not take him long to learn 
the craftiness of the lodging-house keeper. When the end of the 
month came Eiichi, for twenty-three days’ work, was able to get 
only two yen and thirty sen, the lodging-house keeper taking the 
remainder for himself on some pretext or other. 

Eiichi longed to see the papers. For nearly a month he had 
not seen anything in the shape of a paper, nor had he received 
even a single letter. His shirt was alive with lice, but when 
he got back from his work he had not the energy left to wash 
his clothes. Even climbing the stairs exhausted him. He was 
too tired to change into a kimono, so that every other night or so 
he slept as he was. Sometimes he was so overwrought that he 
could not sleep. At such times his companions drank saké. Enichi 
envied them, but he had not the courage to drink saké himself. 
Many of the men when they came back from their work went 
to Shinkaichi to see the moving-pictures. Some of them went 
down to loiter about the brothels at Fukuhara. But Eiichi had 
no energy left even to walk another hundred yards. Some of 
the men told smutty stories about prostitutes, but Eiichi was dead 
to all sexual desire; he had become sexless. He had no ideals, 
no desires, no hopes, no friends. Culture, newspapers, money, 
clothes, health, peaceful rest, books,—-all had gone. He styled 
himself a “negative saint”; he was really a saint. He ought to 
have received sixty-five sen a day in wages, but that was only 
nominal, for his board cost him fifty sen a day and this left him 
with the small sum of fifteen sen a day for himself. Even that 
fifteen sen he could not call his own. His hair had grown long, 
but there was no need to get it cut. His chin was hairy, but he 
had no desire to get it shaved. He often stopped in front of 
the window of a big shop or at a glass door to look with pity 
at his shabby figure. But he was resigned to his fate. 

He wanted to revile society; his descent to the very dregs of 
society had shown him how to revile it. But he had no pen, 
no paper, no desk, no electric light. At the lodging-house twenty 
people were crammed into a room of ten mats to sleep and there 
was one electric light of five candle-power for the room. 

At the place where he went to work there was a man nick- 
named “One String Masa” from some physical defect, who 


IN ‘THE DEPTHS 207 


bullied Eiichi to his fill every day. ‘This man was very proud 
of being head man of the second fire brigade, and at work he 
talked about nothing but fires, till Eiichi, who thought the talk 
was trifling, did not take the trouble to answer him. Masa 
thereupon decided that ‘“Greenhorn was proud,” and ordered 
him about in a very brutal way. One day Masa grumbled at 
Exichi’s slowness in bringing up the cement and tried to push 
him off the roof, but luckily Eiichi caught hold of the scaffold- 
ing and saved himself from falling to the ground. When Masa 
began to bully him Sakai always came to his aid, for which 
Eiichi was very grateful. He always began to cry when he 
was bullied like that, and wanted to pray to God to release him 
from his misery quickly. But now that he found himself sunk 
into an existence more excruciating than that of a slave, he had 
not the faith to pray to God. He found a pencil some one had 
dropped in the room and a copy of “Industrial Japan,” and he 
wrote in it a “Diary of a Slave.” 

This “Diary of a Slave” was truly a very miserable one. Out 
of the depths Etichi cursed existence. At one time he contem- 
plated suicide; at another he thought of Socialism. But a social- 
istic state would be unendurable, he thought, if a man like “One 
String Masa” were dictator. 

With the first money that he received after he went to the 
lodging-house—two yen and thirty sen—he bought a second- 
hand coat. ‘That cost him two yen. With the fifteen sen left 
he had his hair cropped short. This removed the personal dis- 
comfort from which he had long been suffering, and he paid 
a visit to the office in Kajiya-machi, as he wanted to see a file of 
newspapers for the past month. Naturally he also wanted to 
inquire about his father. 

Murai, dressed in foreign clothes, was sitting in the office 
alone, busily writing a letter, when Eiichi went in, and until 
Eiichi bent over the counter he took no notice of him. 

“Good-day, Mr. Murai,” said Eiichi, bowing. 

“Ah, Bonbon, is it?” said Murai in a cold tone. “What have 
you come for? Have you written to your father?” 

“No. Has any message come from him?” 

“The other day, when your father was going to Tokyo, he 
called in here and I asked after you. He said that he had had 
no communication from you since you left the house a fort- 


208 BEFORE THE DAWN 


night before. So you’re in Kobé, are you? Since you’ve cut 
your hair I shouldn’t have known you at first sight. How thin 
you’ve grown and sunburnt! Where are you living?” 

“Was father anxious?” 

“No, not particularly,” answered Murai, and he went on 
writing his letter very busily. He did not show himself at all 
friendly, but Eiichi took no notice. He knew that as he had no 
money or influence he could not expect to receive any respect 
from the world. Nevertheless he was surprised at the difference 
between his reception when he came back from Tokyo and that 
he received now. Grieved at heart, he had not the courage to 
ask to see the papers, but returned dejected to the lodging-house 
in Higashide-machi, where he rolled himself in his thin quilt 
and wept. Murai had asked him for his address, but Eiichi had 
gone away without answering. 

After that there was a succession of misfortunes to E1ichi. 
He got injured at his work almost every day and was bullied by 
“One String Masa.” Nevertheless there were times when he 
had visions. In the middle of the day, when he carried up the 
cement to the roof, the noonday sun shone from above and made 
the tiles sparkle like jewels. Such moments brought him the 
thought that there was something sacred in labour and gave him 
a religious fervour. 

There was neither progress nor growth. His life seemed to 
him like a copper wire; it had only extension in time. ‘There 
was no development, and he had neither hope nor anything 
else. 

Then it began to rain continuously, and all the men idled 
away their time in the lodging-house every day. Gambling was 
rife. The only two who did not gamble were a sickly man of 
thirty-two, known as “Sanuki,” and Eiichi. ‘There were fights 
also nearly every day. One day there was a funeral. A worker 
had met a sudden death in the workshops at the Kawasaki Ship- 
building Yard by being hit by an iron plate. That funeral made 
Eiichi think of the hard lot of the workers. 

Every day the rain fell, and for nine days the men were 
unable to do any work, while in the meantime they were run- 
ning into debt for their boarding expenses. To pay off the 
debt Eiichi would have to work two months for nothing, and 
he thought of Lassalle’s “iron law of wages.” It was more than 


ft  —_— ee 


IN THE DEPTHS 209 


that; it was “the hell of wages.” When he passed an old- 
clothes shop or a cake shop, for the first time in his life he felt 
an inclination to steal. He examined his limbs and his form and 
mourned over his miserable condition. He was reduced to such 
a state that the reform of society or anything else was impossible 
to him. Any idea of a Labour movement seemed to him a mere 
dream. The Japanese labourer was too exhausted for any one 
to arouse him. 

Every day he went through the same exhausting routine. He 
forgot what day of the month it was, even what day of the 
week it was, 

It was on the afternoon of the first day after it had stopped 
raining, when he was returning with a lot of other men from 
the Yamaguchi building yard at Wakinohama, that he unex- 
pectedly ran up against Hozumi of the Hyogo office by the bank 
of the River Uji. Of course Hozumi did not know him; it 
was Eiichi who spoke first. As Eiichi was dressed in a work- 
man’s coat, with the badge of his employer on his back, and wore 
straw sandals, Hozumi was surprised. 

“Bonbon,” he said, “what are you doing like that? What a 
queer chap you are!” 

Hozumi was making fun of him, but Eiichi did not take any 
notice of it. 

“Go home,” went on Hozumi. “I?ll make up some good 
excuse for you. But I say, Bonbon, the master’s very ill. They 
say it’s all up with him—typhoid fever, they say. Eiichi boy, get 
back home. What an undutiful son you are. I shouldn’t like 
to have so much learning if it makes people like that.” 

“What? My father ill? Do they say it’s hopeless?” 

“I expect every day when I get home to find a telegram saying 
he’s dead.” 

Eiichi was plunged into distress. 

“If a telegram comes saying my father’s dead,” he said at 
last, “I wish you’d let me know.” 

His voice was choked with sobs. 

“Of course I will. Ain’t you his heir? But, Eiichi boy, 
where be you really? Murai told me the other day that you'd 
come to the office looking very seedy and that’s all I’ve heard. 
Where be you really? I’d have let you know about your father 
sooner 1f ?'d known where you were.” 


210 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Ejichi felt very grateful for Hozumi’s kindness and told him 
where he was boarding, with details as to how to find it. 

“T know, I know,” said Hozumi. “Ye’re there, are ye? ‘That 
house belongs to Shibata, who’s chief of the second fire brigade. 
I know the chap.” 

The same evening, when Elichi was standing in the small 
basement of the Shibata lodging-house eating his supper, there 
came a messenger from the Niimi office with a letter from 
Murai. It was an announcement of the death of his father. 

Eiichi left his supper half-eaten and went to seek the lodging- 
house keeper, Shibata, telling him the facts and asking if he 
might go. Then out came the crisp-haired wife of Shibata, with 
a squint in her almond eyes. 

“Ye owes us four yen fifty sen,” she said. ‘“‘Ye’ll pay us that 
afore ye goes, won’t ye?” 

Eiichi then told them, for the first time, about the office at 
Hyogo, and asked them to send some one with him at once to get 
the money. ‘The person whom they told to go with Eiichi to 
get the money happened to be “One String Masa.”. The woman 
expressed her doubts unceasingly about the truth of the story, but 
“One String Masa” and Eiichi set off in silence. ‘They walked 
from Higashide-machi to Kajiya-machi, but during the whole 
twenty minutes it took them to do this they did not exchange a 
word with each other. 

Murai paid Eiichi’s debt, and “One String Masa,” with a sur- 
prised expression on his face, received the money and went away. 

That evening Eiichi returned by steamer to Tokushima. 
Murai went with him, but Eiichi did not look at him or talk 
to him. He had seen “Sanuki” die at the lodging-house and 
he did not think that his father’s death was particularly im- 
portant. He had come to learn that one must have a will like 
iron when one sinks to the bottom of society. 

On the day of the funeral Eiichi tried to show as much indif- 
ference as possible, but at the Zuigan Temple burial ground, 
when the priests from twelve temples, with Eiichi following, 
circled the coffin three times, he could not restrain his grief. As 
he walked in silence in the funeral procession all his relations 
with his father unrolled before him like a panorama. Beyond 
what Hamlet felt when he saw the funeral procession of Ophelia, 
Eiichi thought, was the dread reality, and he wept with awe and 


ee —— ———— ee —— 


IN ‘THE DEPTHS 211 


grief. Everything was awe-inspiring:—the unmusical clash of 
the cymbals, the chanting of the scriptures. As Eiichi listened 
to the mysterious funeral music, he made a resolve,—that he 
would jump across the death-line and fight against convention, 
procrastination, tradition, and sophistry. 

Before him was the great world,—the world which Elichi 
had told his dead father was an enormous lunatic asylum,—tor-= 
mented by the parancea of militarism and capitalism:—a lunatic 
asylum co-extensive with the earth. Regardless of whether he 
or the world were mad, Eiichi determined that henceforth he 
would fight against those things. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


In Business 


RM RRRRRRRRRRRAR 


IICHTS father had died without making a will, and 
kK when the family came to investigate his affairs they 
found to their great astonishment that his land and houses 
were mortgaged two or three times over. Eiichi took no part 
in the family council, but continued to study day after day. For 
two weeks he was puzzled to know what would become of them 
all. ‘Then one day, his uncle Yasui of Osaka asked Eiichi to 
tell him the whole state of affairs. He was greatly taken aback 
when Eiichi told him the details one by one. 

“You'll have to run the office at Hyogo yourself,” he said, 
adding kindly, “Pll help you. J’ll take the two boys Masunori 
and Yoshinori, so you needn’t be anxious about them. I feel 
sorry for your stepmother in the country, but she’s got a goodish 
bit saved and she’ll have to go and live in that house we’ve kept 
for her at the back.” 

His uncle had forgotten all about Emi, which was quite 
natural, as Emi had not been informed of her father’s death and 
had not come home. 

Everything was thus arranged. ‘The big house passed into 
the hands of Masuda of Torimachi, to whom it had been mort- 
gaged; the stepmother went to live in the small house, and the 
big outhouse and the sheds for fermenting indigo were pulled 
down; Masunori and Yoshinori went to Osaka; and Umé opened 
a restaurant with two thousand five hundred yen that was given 
her. Eiichi himself went to the office at Hyogo. 

Eiichi did not think that he had any talent for business, and, 
of course, he had no inclinations that way. But he had not the 
courage to plunge among the lower classes. “The workers’ board- 
ing-house and the cheap lodging-house were too gloomy for him. 
Moreover he told himself that it was important for him to have 
some practical experience for the realisation of his principles, so 


IN BUSINESS 213 


he did what his uncle told him and made an effort to forget those 
horrible months that he had spent at the dockers’ lodging-house. 

When he went to the office at Hyogo, Eiichi was conscious 
that he was in another world. He was master now; he might 
even be called a capitalist. But it took him a long time to 
project his inner self upon the outer world, and he thought 
painfully that he had not yet found his real self. His resolve 
now was that he would merge his identity in the social life 
around him. ‘The courage and fervour that inspired him at the 
beginning of May had now disappeared. He was fast bound by 
the authority of the outer world, unable to cry or even sob, with 
the feeling of one about to sink to the bottom of a deep ocean. 
Of late he had come to think that his identity was being de- 
stroyed. 

No more letters had come from Tsuruko during the months 
of his homeless life and he had himself not been able to send 
her a letter. Love had been cast aside as a sort of sin during 
that period; he thought that the ordeal of such a strenuous life 
would be unendurable to a weak thing like a woman, and that 
they could not together face the hardships of the future. 
Strangely enough he could forget love by day,—or, at least, try 
to forget it. 

When he went out into the busy city and began his business 
as a carrier he was not without some consciousness that he lacked 
stability. At school, it did not matter so much, as a school had 
only remote relations with real life; but now a stable base was 
necessary. What should it be? It must be strong. Woman? 
The woman-soul? Eiichi searched his heart. He could not now 
win fame. Disappointed in love, his identity was gradually 
being dissolved. From the wings that he had spread for a flight 
in the infinite the feathers were falling one by one and the 
tendons were beginning to snap. 

He began work as a transport agent. Like old Faust he 
turned his face towards the sea. Where was his Mephistopheles 
lurking? In what lay the secret danger? Where was the dyke 
being built that would dry up the sea? 

Eiichi did not take his stand upon authority; he was as humble 
as possible, whether at the offices of the steamship companies or 
at his own office, or when he went from vessel to vessel in the 
harbour. It was not the time to apply the principles of Socialism 


214 BEFORE THE DAWN 
or claim the liberty of the Anarchist. On the deck of the big 


steamship Minnesota Eiichi felt his own insignificance. 

Eiichi rose at five o’clock every morning to study. At eight 
o’clock he went out with Rokuya, the apprentice, to superintend 
the working of cargo, and he never got back before eight o’clock 
in the evening. At night, when he got home, he did not touch 
any meat or saké. Nor did he seek after any one to love; his 
interest in love had not yet revived. It was true that he felt 
lonely without women’s society—especially after he got to Kobé, 
—but he thought that he would soon get tired of it. A woman 
was merely a creature with a nice complexion, a soft skin and 
pretty features, who inspired men with a pleasant feeling; he 
doubted whether that feeling would outlast five or ten years. 
Books were the thing; and as business was good he ordered a 
number of his favourite philosophical works from Maruzen, the 
bookseller in Tokyo. When he got back from his work he lay 
on his side among his books, sipping egg and milk, and reading 
the reviews in the foreign magazines till the servant, who was a 
woman of about forty from Awaji, came to tell him that supper 
was ready. When he sat at the table and ate his vegetarian 
meal he felt a little lonely. Of course there were no luxuries; 
one had to smack one’s lips over laver. “Ah, if I only had a 
sister like Humé,” he thought; but he had no sister,—not even 
a cat. 

When Eiichi first arrived in Kobé he made immediate in- 
quiries as to his sister Emi’s whereabouts, but could not discover 
where she had hidden herself. Yoshitaro Yoshida, in whose care 
she had been placed, spoke of her as being very stupid and said 
that she had never been to see him. 

When bedtime came Eiichi thought how nice it would be to 
have a friend. It made him feel sad to think that he had never 
had a friend. As for Tsuruko ... when he remem- 
bered the hand-clasps and embraces—all the details of their 
intimacy in the past,—he thought that if they could eliminate 
sex T'suruko would be the best friend he could have. He yearned 
after her. ‘“Tsuruko was a fine girl,” he murmured to him- 
self, and felt a desire to seek her friendship. ‘Tsuruko as his 
companion? ‘The thought seemed to fill his breast with a divine 
freshness. Rolled in the quilts thinking of these things, and at 
times reading a book, he fell asleep. 


eS ee —— ee 


IN BUSINESS 215 


Such was a day in his life. It was not an unpleasant one. 
To his assistant and his clerks and the servant he showed great 
consideration, and their affability increased. As his financial 
circumstances improved he increased the salaries of his clerks. 
He even had some idea of giving the clerks a share in the profits 
as the business developed if things went on well. Thus it could 
not be said that he had no pleasure. | 

This went on till the end of October. At the beginning of 
November he began to go to the theatre, as it occurred to him that 
he would like to study the life history of the people. One moon- 
light night in November he picked up a kitten. It was past 
midnight, when he was returning from the Aioi theatre, and 
the kitten was crying on a vacant piece of ground at Minatogawa. 
It was very young and its eyelids were still red. It had a narrow 
piece of red silk tied round its neck to which was fastened a 
bell, and it was frightfully thin, with black and white longish 
fur. Ejichi picked it up compassionately and put it in his bosom, 
whereupon the kitten stopped crying and began to purr. Then 
it began to make a great disturbance in his bosom, but Eiichi, 
laughing, let it have its own way. It climbed up his chest and 
looked into his face as if to fathom his thoughts. ‘“‘Miaow” it 
cried and rubbed its damp, soft little nose against Eiichi’s. It 
gave him a strange feeling, but he did not dislike it. After a 
little time the kitten mewed again and then went back into his 
bosom, sticking its head out as though it wanted to look at the 
moon. Eiichi felt as if he were embracing a loved one who 
was tired of life. The moonlight added to his pleasure, and he 
walked along Hon-machi, cherishing the kitten and thinking of 
all sorts of things. As the moonlight fell on the roofs of the 
houses the tiles where the dew was heaviest glistened in its rays, 
and the telegraph wires and poles were reflected in the road, 
producing shadows that looked like crests on white silk. In the 
moonlight even the streets looked beautiful, and Eiichi, as he 
went along nursing the kitten, was lost in contemplation of the 
beauty of the city-scene. All at once there appeared to him, like 
a vision, the drama which he had seen not long before,—the 
suicide of Hanshichi the publican and his sweetheart Sankatsu. 
The tiles on the roofs shone like silver. 

The next morning the kitten caused a sensation in the office. 
“Tt’s a tabby,” said Hozumi, and at once there was a flow of jokes. 


216 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Just the thing for the young master,” chaffed Hosokawa. For 
four days, from morning till night, the kitten was a source of 
amusement. It always slept with Eiichi, and in the morning it 
crept up and looked into his face, putting its soft moist nose 
against Ejichi’s and licking it. “A cat’s kiss,” Evichi thought 
with amusement. On getting up he found it had made a mess in 
the bed. When he told this to the clerks they said that he was 
not the only one; the kitten had done it in their beds too. On 
the fourth day when it was raining, the cat made a mess quite 
boldly on Hozumi’s coat. ‘Thereupon Mr. Hozumi got in a 
great rage and ordered Rokuya to take the cat and leave it on 
the beach. Rokuya, who was a flat-faced youth, with a big nose 
and long thin lips, gave a derisive laugh and took the cat down 
to the beach. Generally Rokuya did not do what Hozumi asked 
him, but this time he thought he would see the end of the comedy 
and did what he was told. When the boy came back he waited, 
and when his young master asked him what was the matter, he 
said that he thought it was too cruel to leave the kitten homeless, 
so he had given it to the cakeman. ‘There the first scene of the 
comedy ended. 

One day at the end of November the clerks in the office began 
talking about brothels in front of the young master, and Hoso- 
kawa drew an indecent picture out of his tobacco-pouch and 
showed it to Eiichi. They had begun to get insolent through 
over familiarity. Eiichi saw no reason to fear temptation, but 
he did not like the tone of the conversation. 

The night after the affair of the cat Eiichi went for a walk 
with Hozumi to the Nanko Shrine, and when Hozumi tried to 
drag him into the Daikyu, Eiichi made some polite excuse and 
started home. But Hozumi entered quite unabashed. Ln1ichi 
felt some regret that he was not as bold as Hozumi, and it oc- 
curred to him that in the study of social conditions it was neces- 
sary to see everything. He went back to the Daikyu therefore, 
and a singularly beautiful girl, with a coquettish air, came out 
and tried to pull him in. 

“Your mate’s gone in,” she said, “‘so there ain’t no use vour 
going home.” gta ol 

She spoke in the Kobé dialect. ‘Then another girl came out 
and began to pull him in. Hozumi also came out. 


~ — ——— o 


IN BUSINESS PA if) 


“Just come in for a little,” he said. ‘We'll just stay a 
while and then we’ll go home.” 

There seemed nothing else to be done so Eiichi went in. 
Hozumi was fondling a beautiful girl and making all sorts of 
jokes, but Eiichi did not take any notice. Then Hozumi told 
the girls about Eiichi’s vegetarianism and all about the kitten, 
at which Ejichi was not displeased, and after a little time they 
went away, the two girls coming out to see them off and calling 
out “Come again, do now.” 

Eiichi was surprised at the undeniable fascination of the girls. 
Hozumi was telling him all sorts of tales about girls, but Eiichi 
thought that his self-control was unshaken. 


CHAPTER XXV 
A By-Election 
MMM MK MRM RRR RARR 


FTER the “New Era” and the Kashiwagi Socialist 
A parties in Tokyo had separated, the publication of the 

New Era was suspended, but Mr. I. and Mrs. F. after- 
wards took it up and produced a small journal. Enichi heard 
from a Socialist living in a remote part of Mikawa Province that 
the journal was continually being fined by the authorities for 
statements made in it which were deemed subversive of order, 
and he sent them ten yen as a trifle to help pay the fines. Eiichi 
thought it was necessary to disseminate democratic ideas more 
thoroughly in Japan in some way or other, but in his present 
position he found it impossible to do anything. More and more 
there appealed to him the idea of getting into closer touch with 
the poor somewhat on the principle of Toynbee, the English 
social reformer. 

Eiichi wished to realise his heart’s desire, but the temptations 
of his environment were too strong for him. He was also very 
much under the influence of the naturalistic literature which 
was just then coming into vogue. His submission to beauty and 
women somehow seemed to him something of which to be proud. 

It was now the end of November. A by-election for a seat 
on the Municipal Council was taking place and Eiichi was told 
by Murai that he ought to take part. One of the candidates for 
election was the head of the Torii transport agency in Sakaé- 
machi and as he was in the same line of business Eiichi was 
dragged, willy-nilly, into the contest. Eiichi consented to ad- 
dress one of the meetings. As it happened, there was only one 
public meeting from the beginning to the end of the election, and 
this was held at the Kikusuitei, a hall which would only hold 
about four hundred people, situated near the Fukuhara brothel. 
Most of the speakers were the proprietors of magazines and 

218 


A BY-ELECTION 219 


journals which were published irregularly, mostly for the sake 
of the advertisements, some of them coming out only every 
three months so as not to come under the Press Law. ‘They made 
a big show by their titles, such as the Japan Hardware Journal, 
the Kwansai Soy Journal, the Lumber Review, or the Kobé & 
Osaka Shipchandler? Gazette, while some had specially grand 
names, such as Great Japan of the Ocean. ‘The proprietors 
were a strange lot of half-baked politicians who made a specialty 
of local politics, and their speeches were very poor attempts. 
Eiichi, on the other hand, by the freshness of his views and the 
skilful way in which he set them forth, made a great impression 
on the audience. ‘The next day the newspapers said that Mr. 
Eiichi Niimi had quite captured the audience by his eloquence. 
It may not have been specially due to Eiichi’s speech, but at 
any rate Mr. Torii was elected three days after. 

The feast in celebration of the election was held at the Tsut- 
suikadan on Egeyama. Of course Mr. Niimi was invited to be 
present at the function, and Mr. Kobata, the proprietor of the 
Marine Transporter’ Monthly, accompanied him. Eiichi went 
with Kobata to the Tsutsuikadan, and there, for the first time in 
his life, was served with saké by geisha. He only drank one 
cup. Also for the first time in his life he saw geisha dance at 
a private gathering. It dawned upon him that people do not 
become dissipated wilfully. 

‘There were thirty-one people present at the feast, including 
Mr. Torii, the successful candidate, and except Eiichi they were 
all the class of people described above,—proprietors of petty 
monthly journals and reporters. Eiichi had come to understand 
the condition of local politics. According to Murai, the suc- 
cessful candidate Torii was a scholar of Waseda Academy,* who 
had long been engaged in the transport business in Kobé. He 
seemed to be a gentlemanly fellow, but he did not enter into any 
intimate talk with Eiichi. 

Kobata told every one present what he had heard from 
Murai,—that Eiichi was a great scholar, and Eiichi became quite 
popular in the gathering. Kobata seemed to know all about the 
geisha and told Eiichi, who was sitting next to him, all their 
names and introduced them to him. 


* Waseda Academy (now Waseda University) in Tokyo was founded 
by the late Marquis Okuma. 


220 BEFORE THE DAWN 


It was nearly one o’clock before the feast was over and then 
Kobata invited Eiichi to come with him and three of the geisha 
to a second spree in the Hanakuma quarter. LEjichi, as a seeker 
after beauty, had not the heart to refuse, and so they went to 
the Hanakuma quarters, their jinrikishas stopping in front of 
the beautifully illuminated ‘Tama-no-ya. As their jinrikishas 
stopped they could hear through the latticed door the high voices 
of the girls, and when they got out of the jinrikishas the girls 
came out to receive them. Here neither saké nor anything else 
was produced. One of the elder geisha who had the profes- 
sional name of “‘Kiyonosuké,”’ paid special attention to Eiichi, 
but Eiichi found “Kohidé,” a girl who had come back with 
them from the Tsutsuikadan, the most beautiful. She was a 
girl of about twenty-one or twenty-two, of a modest behaviour 
and a quiet tongue. Among those who accompanied them back 
from the Tsutsuikadan was also a girl named “‘Umewaka,” but 
she had a headache, she said, and soon went upstairs to bed. 

Kobata said that he was going to stop the night there and 
recommended Eiichi to do the same. “They were all seated 
together in front of a brazier, and Eiichi, as he inhaled the 
sweet scent of the girls and listened to their joking talk, felt 
that he had not the strength of mind to rise up and go home. 
Kiyonosuké also engagingly asked him to stay, as it was so late. 
Finally Kohidé gave the order for two beds to be made up side 
by side. 

Eiichi thought the world was a surprisingly accommodating 
place. Although it was a geisha-house there was nothing vulgar 
or disgusting about it. , Here there was a greater warmth and a 
richer feeling of humanity than in his father’s house at Toku- 
shima. He felt very grateful for all their kindness. 

‘That night he slept in the same room with Kobata and left 
the next morning at eight o’clock. As he left Kiyonosuké asked 
if she might come to his office with Kohidé, and Ejichi assented. 


Ee 


CHAPTER XXVI 


At the Geisha House 
RRRKRKKRMRKKRKRKRKMKKH 


P \HE next day Kiyonosuké sent a very long letter by a 
jinrikishaman to Ejichi’s office in Kajiya-machi and the 
ingenuous Ejichi showed it to every one in ‘the office, 

from Murai down to the servant. ‘They all thought it was a 

great joke. 

That afternoon two very fine gentlemen, dressed in European 
clothes, came to the office in jinrikishas. Eiichi thought it rather 
strange, but learnt that they came from the Kobé Marine Insur- 
ance Company. Murai received them and after a long talk with 
him upstairs, lasting about an hour, they both went away. When 
they had gone Murai came to Eiichi, who was writing cargo 
Invoices. 

“Master,” he said, “something terrible has happened.” 

“What is it?” asked Eiichi, surprised. 

“The Daiiuku-maru was wrecked in the Enshu Sea in that 
storm we had about a week ago and broke her mast, lost her 
rudder and had to jettison a third of her cargo. While she was 
drifting about, the Korea-maru on the American line, discov- 
ered her and went to the rescue of the crew advising them to 
abandon the ship and cargo. The men, however, were reluctant 
to leave their old ship and the whole ten of them decided to 
stick by her. ‘They were given some provisions and drifted on 
till the vessel neared Oshima Island in Izu. There the people 
on the island saw she was adrift and quickly launched a salvage 
boat. ‘They took the vessel into the harbour and being a very 
rapacious lot they stole about half of what was left on board. 
The Kobé Marine Insurance Company got a telegram the day 
before yesterday and they have already sent some one to wherever 
the harbour is in Izu. ‘They came to consult about the five hun- 
dred cases of ammonium from Tokyo for Maruni. They say 


about half of it is spoilt, but there are about two hundred cases 
221 


222 BEFORE THE DAWN 


that the water has not got at and which are all right. ‘The insur- 
ance company says it is not a case of a ship foundering, but of its 
drifting and as the crew threw the goods into the sea deliberately 
the company can’t pay the insurance money on the whole, but 
ask us to accept some consolation money. Of course if you 
opened a hole in the bottom of the ship and she sank or all the 
cargo was. lost, the whole amount of the insurance would be 
paid. I put it to them, supposing a hole was opened in the 
bottom of the ship where she now lies, would we get the full 
amount of the insurance, and they said in that case they would 
pay it.” } 

“What a nuisance,” said Eiichi. “Do the Maruni people 
know about it?” 

“They said that they had called there on the way. ‘The same 
thing happened to Ishida’s ship off Kazarima in Harima Province 
when it was wrecked. ‘The ammonium that was left they poured 
water on to spoil it and got the whole of the amount that the 
goods were insured for.” 

“Would it be quite right to do that?” Eiichi asked quickly. 
He thought the economics of capitalism rather queer. 

“Oh, yes, there’s no objection,” said Murai. ‘According to 
the explanation of the Kobé Marine Insurance Company, the 
Maruni Company pays them every year about twenty-five thou- 
sand yen in insurance premiums, while they say that this cargo 
was insured for something under forty thousand yen. So as 
they want to continue being favoured with the business, if the 
ship is caused to sink or the whole of the cargo is rendered worth- 
less, they will pay the full amount for which it was insured.” 

““That’s a strange idea. I never heard it before.” 

*““That’s how it’s done. As we can’t very well sink the ship 
I think we had better throw the cargo overboard or spoil it 
with sea water.” 

While they were talking there was a telephone call from the 
Maruni office about the matter. Murai was thrown into great 
perplexity, for there being rather a scarcity of ammonium just 
then the Maruni Company wanted to have the goods, and yet 
at the same time they wanted to get the insurance money. In 
any case, they said, some one should be sent to investigate the 
state of affairs. 

Eiichi and Murai talked the matter over and decided to send 


“. ee ee 


AT THE GEISHA HOUSE 223 


Hozumi. They informed Maruni by telephone of the decision, 
and then Eiichi made a hurried dinner and went off quickly to 
look for Hozumi, who was out in the bay. 

At half-past seven that evening, Hozumi, with a clerk of 
the Maruni Fertiliser Company, left Kobé on the second-class 
express for Oshima in Izu. 

That evening Eiichi felt himself drawn to visit Kiyonosuké 
and Kohidé and he trudged along to the Hanakuma quarter, 
Somehow he felt very shy. Just as he was getting to Fukuhara- 
guchi he heard the sound of a drum and stopped to look. It 
was a band of gospellers preaching by the roadside. Eliichi’s 


ee . ° ! 
religious fervour was that evening especially aroused. He com- 


pared himself with the young men preaching and felt exasper- 
ated at his own lack of spirit. He gave up his visit to the 
Hanakuma quarter and went to the Gospel Mission Hall in 
Tamon-dori, where he listened to the preaching till the end. 
Eiichi was not particularly affected by the preaching, but he 
was very much struck by a worker’s testimony. This worker 
appeared to be a man of weak intellect, a labourer at the Kawa- 
saki Shipbuilding Yard, it was said;—a man of thirty-five or 
thirty-six, who earnestly proclaimed that he had been saved by 
Jesus Christ from a life of crime, and by his salvation had en- 
tered into a state of blessedness. Eiichi was much impressed, 
He thought of the bewildering indulgences of his present life 
and a resolution to become a Christian formed in his mind. But 
his philosophy blocked the way. He could feel no sympathy 
with the many religious mysteries for which no explanation was 
forthcoming, such as the Trinity, the Immaculate Conception, 
the Ascension and miracles. 


The pastor was a tall, slender man of about forty in appear-: 


ance, very sentimental, or, rather, hysterical, who repeated the 
same thing over and over again and called for recruits for the 
“seat of grace” among those who wanted to be saved. ‘There 
were only twenty or thirty people present, but two or three per- 
sons went boldly up. Eiichi wished that he had the courage 
_ to go up. 

Eiichi felt that he must certainly repent, but that night the 
call of beauty, especially the temptation of seeing Kohidé, was 
Stronger than the call of religion. That was the reason why 
Eiichi had not the courage to seek salvation and go to the “‘seat 


eres 


el 
oan earenty 


—— 
——— ee 


224 BEFORE THE DAWN 


of grace.” He went out dejectedly and again proceeded quickly 
towards the Hanakuma quarter. 

The Hanakuma quarter was lit up. ‘“‘Why was the Gospel 
Mission Hall so dark inside,” Eiichi thought, “‘while on the 
other hand the geisha quarter at Yamanoté is so bright?” Pretty 
girls were there in beautiful dresses, with large sparkling eyes 
and glessy black hair done up in wonderful coiffures, who 
brushed past him in the narrow passages, giving Eiichi an inex- 
pressible feeling of delight. 

At the Tama-no-ya Kiyonosuké and Kohidé told him that 
although they had received an invitation elsewhere they had been 
so certain that he would come that they had purposely excused 
themselves and had been waiting for him. When he heard this 
Eiichi thought it was a pity that he had not come earlier. 

Kohidé was from Akita and was very beautiful. She seemed 
more than ordinarily beautiful that evening, and Eiichi felt 
that even to sit by her side was a great privilege. Ej1ichi, Kohidé, 
Kiyonosuké and the mistress sat round the brazier. ‘The mistress 
did not look a bit like the ordinary mistress of a geisha-house; 
she looked like the wife of a merchant. Kobata had told Eiichi 
after they went to bed that she was the mistress of a hatter 
somewhere in Moto-machi. 

Tea and cake were served and Kiyonosuké hesitatingly sug- 
gested that they thought of getting Eiichi to take them to the 
theatre. E1ichi did not reply, however, and his silence cast a 
chill on the company. His desire was rather to amuse himself 
with Kohidé as freely as he used -to play at love with Tsuruko, 
but Kiyonosuké’s ardour prevented him. Kiyonosuké went on 
chattering alone. ‘The talk getting round to Kobata, Kohidé 
dismissed him with the remark that she did not like him. Kiyo- 
nosuké also did not like him. Kohidé imitated the way Kobata 
smoked. Kiyonosuké said that Kobata’s way of smoking was 
very like the Mayor’s. 

Then they began picking the Mayor to pieces. Kiyonosuké 
told a story about how embarrassed the Mayor was in offering 
his congratulations at the celebration of the completion of a 
new house that a Nada brewer named Yagi had built as a 
separate establishment for his mistress. Kohidé asked Eiichi 
if he had not seen the sarcastic remarks made about the Mayor 
in the Kobé papers the next day. Eiichi answered that he had 


AT THE GEISHA HOUSE 225 


not seen them and Kohidé told him what the paper said, Ejichi 
thought that it was not only the Mayor of Tokushima who was 
dissipated and smiled sardonically. 

Then they began an attack on the Mayor. There came stories 
of his relations with geisha. 

“T say,” said Kohidé, breaking into the conversation in a loud 
voice, “do you know? Kobata’s girl at the Matsuraro goes back- 
wards and forwards between Mr. Yamada, the head of the 
Public Works Office, and Mr. Shinoda, of the Japan Mail Steam- 
ship Company.” 

Kiyonosuké opened her eyes wide. 

“Does Yamada go with girls?” she asked. 

“Um.” 

“Hasn’t he some children?” 

“Yes, they say he has five.” 

“Then why does he go out amusing himself?” 

“Oh, he goes out when his wife’s expecting another.” 

Then Eiichi heard from Kiyonosuké all about the gaieties of 
Mr. Shinoda of the Japan Mail Steamship Company. He smiled 
sardonically when he heard of the secret life of Shinoda, re- 
membering his affected assumption of superiority. 

While they were talking Umewaka came back and began 
telling them what had happened at the banquet she had been to. 
She was delighted because Mr. Nakao had promised to take her 
to the theatre the following night. 

When Kohidé heard this she petitioned Ejichi to take her to 
the theatre the following night. Eiichi assented, whereupon 
Kiyonosuké wanted to go too and Eiichi had not the courage to 
refuse to take her. Umewaka asked what time jt was, and the 
mistress, who was getting sleepy, said it was eleven o'clock. 
Umewaka at once announced that she was going to bed, where- 
upon Kiyonosuké proposed that Eiichi should stop the night, as 
they were all women in the house and felt lonely. 

Eiichi again had not the courage to refuse, and accordingly \ 
they spread a bed for him. In the society of these girls, over- | 
come by their perfume, Eiichi forgot all his scruples. His mind 
and body were trembling with excitement as he Jay in bed. He | 
felt that these geisha were finer creatures than Tsuruko, and | 
that he would not be sorry even if he should fall into tempta- 
tion with one of them. 


CHAPTER XXVI1 
In Difficulties 
Mx MK MM KM KK KK RRAR 


[oe end of the year was now at hand and all the trans- 


port agencies were very busy handling goods. Hozumi 

came back from Izu five days later and reported that 
the ship was quite sound and that, as half the cargo had been 
saved, they would probably not be able to get the insurance 
money. Even now, however, if they had the courage to damage 
the rest of the cargo with water, the Marine Insurance Com- 
pany would probably pay the full insurance. Murai inquired 
of the Maruni Company by telephone what he should do and 
was told to let the goods be damaged by water and get the 
insurance. 

Two or three days passed, and then the Kobé News published 
some particulars of a quarrel between Murai and his wife. It 
was something about Murai having struck his wife and of an 
exaggerated complaint having been made at the police station. 
It was also stated that Murai was on terms of intimacy with a 
low-class geisha. ‘There had been stories going about the office 
for two or three weeks of Murai’s intimacy with a girl of the 
kind, and there had been some amusement at a stingy fellow like 
Murai going after girls because his wife was with child. This 
was the origin of the trouble, and Eiichi felt some regret that 
it should have got into the papers. ‘That day they were ex- 
tremely busy in the office, but Murai did not show his face all 
day. 

That evening, while Eiichi was reckoning up the day’s tak- 
ings, Roku came back from the harbour and reported that there 
was a rumour that Hosokawa of their office had got the daugh- 
ter of the cakeman into trouble. This was the girl to whom 
Roku had given the kitten. The girl was only about fifteen 


or sixteen and there was thus a difference of ten years between 
226 


ee 


IN DIFFICULTIES 227 


her age and Hosokawa’s. In noting this, however, Eiichi re- 
membered his own weaknesses and so said nothing about it 
to Hosokawa. When they all came back from the harbour that 
evening,—Hosokawa, Yamada and Hozumi,—they showed no 
difference in their bearing, but next morning Eiichi heard Ho- 
zumi and Hosokawa quarrelling in the kitchen, though what 
about he did not know. Afterwards Hozumi came to Eiichi 
and warned him against Hosokawa, but Eiichi did not learn 
what the warning referred to. 

That evening Hosokawa did not return, nor the next day, 
nor theeday after. Murai also did not come to the office for 
three days, so that Eiichi and Hozumi and Yamada, who was. 
not yet twenty, and Rokuya, the boy, had to work till they were 
nearly exhausted. There was another trouble, and that was 
that while they had to advance the insurance premiums on the 
goods they had no money to do it with. Murai had the cheque- 
book of the bank, where there ought to have been a deposit of 
five or six hundred yen, and Eiichi was at his wit’s end to 
know what to do. Murai must have received a hundred and 
seven yen from Kazama for transport charges, he thought. 
Also, till Maruni’s affair was settled they could not collect their 
charges from them. Not knowing what else to do Eiichi made 
use of an amount of three hundred and thirty yen which had 
been sent by Kondo at Tokushima as freight charges, 

On the 9th of December, while Eiichi was reading the news- 
paper upstairs, Rokuya came up and announced that Soda, the 
head of the firm of Kazama, had called. Eiichi went down to 
see him and then discovered Hosokawa’s dishonesty. He learned 
that while Hozumi was away at Izu, Hosokawa had abstracted 
two hundred and fifty bushels of rice from a quantity of seven 
hundred and fifty bushels which was to be shipped from Kobé 
by the Hakata-maru to Otaru in the Hokkaido on the Ist of 
December. Eiichi was thunder-struck, but told Soda that he 
would inquire into the matter. 

Murai came that morning looking quite unconcerned, and 
went into the office after Soda had gone. LElichi said nothing 
to Murai about his absence, but informed him of Hosokawa’s 
dishonesty as he had learnt of it from Soda. Murai made an 
indignant exclamation and rang up several places on the tele- 
phone, but all he could learn was that Hosokawa had gone 


228 BEFORE THE DAWN 


to Tokyo. Yamada, without knowing of Hosokawa’s dishon- 
esty, told Murai that two hundred and fifty bushels of rice had 
been bought by a broker named Tanii of Higashikawasaki-cho, 
whereupon Murai gave an ejaculation of despair and said that 
nothing could be done. 

Eiichi asked Murai how much they had to their account in 
the bank, whereupon Murai curtly replied that there were only 
three hundred yen if he drew his salary for the month. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 
A Loan 


RRR KRM MM MK HK MM KK 


ARLY next morning Eiichi was reading upstairs in his 

5 study when the boy Rokuya came up and said that Mr. 

Shinoda, from the Pier, had come. By the Pier was 

meant the branch office of the Japan Mail Steamship Company, 

which was situated by the pier next to the Kawasaki Shipbuild- 
ing Yard. 

“I wonder what his business is,” said Eiichi, absent-mindedly. 
“Show him upstairs.” 

“Mr. Shinoda?” said Toku, the servant. “Is that him that’s 
always coming to the office? He’s fat and has a long moustache 
and wears gold-rimmed glasses, don’t he?” and she took a 
cushion from in front of the screen on which were inscribed 
some Chinese characters written by Mr. Suichiku, an old friend 
of Ejichi’s father. 

Eiichi knew Shinoda at the Pier quite well, and Shinoda had 
also been at the office three or four times since Eiichi’s arrival 
although he had not come upstairs, but had only stopped a few 
minutes, talking loudly to Murai in a chaffing sort of way while 
puffing at his cigar, and then suddenly going away again, upon 
which Murai generally burst into laughter. 

A moment after there was a loud noise on the stairs and a 
big man of about forty came up. He was dressed in morning 
clothes. 

“Ah, good morning, Mr. Niimi,” said Shinoda. “Fine 
weather to-day, eh?” 

He put his hard felt hat on the floor and wiped his moustache 
with his handkerchief, making an easy salutation before he sat 
down. Four or five sparrows were chirping on the roof of the 


warehouse behind. 
229 


230 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Eiichi bowed with his hands on the mats in Japanese style. 
“Please sit down,” he said. 

Shinoda looked at the books on the shelf in the alcove. 

“Are these what you read?” he asked in a loud voice. “Won’t 
you let me just have a look?” and he went up to the bookshelf. 

“Hm, all philosophical works, eh? No, here’s Karl Marx’s 
, ‘Capital.’ ‘You're not a philosopher only, eh? Ah, here’s 
Westermarck’s ‘Origin of Human Marriage.’ You only read 
things that people of my sort can’t understand.” 

Shinoda spoke in a very familiar way. He was a lively 
fellow, with all the vitality of a school-boy, and for that reason 
he was generally liked by all at the Pier. 

There was a moment’s silence while Shinoda ran his eyes 
over the books. 

“It’s a pity you’re only the head of a transport agency,” he 
said. ‘There are not many bookshops in Kobé that have such 
a collection of philosophical works. Kobé’s not a place where 
people read books. ‘That’s why they’re all such fools, eh?” and 
he went off into a laugh. He certainly had a very loud voice. 

Eiichi watched Shinoda in silence while he examined the 
books. , 

“Mr. Niimi,” Shinoda went on, “you should give up the 
transport business and get an appointment as professor in an 
academy. Shall I help you to get a position as teacher of ethics 
in a Middle School?” 

He was saying the first thing that came into his head. 

“No, thank you,” answered Eiichi. “Pd rather be excused 
from teaching ethics in 'a Middle School.” 

“No, no. The fact is that I have a friend who’s opened a 
private Middle School of about two hundred boys and he’s asked 
me to find him some masters who can talk English well and 
understand philosophy. He offers to engage them at about 
seventy yen a month. I’m looking for them now.” 

“Persons in Kobé who understand philosophy?” said Eiichi. 
“T expect he’d be satisfied with a man who wears a red neck- 
tie and knows enough English to say ‘Good morning.’ ” 

“Yes, but you know sometimes there are graduates from 
theological schools in America who are idling away their time 
in Kobé in some firm. ‘That’s what he’s thinking of, no doubt. 
Persons of good character who have made a special study of 


A LOAN 23% 


philosophy are well thought of in the provinces, you know.” 

“Yes, I suppose there are some graduates from theological 
seminaries,” 

The boy came upstairs bringing tea. 

“Well, you’ve got some interesting books there,” said Shinoda, 
“and you read a lot of poetry too, I see,” and he sat himself 
down on a cushion with his legs crossed quite at his ease. 

The servant now came up with the tobacco-box, which she 
placed in front of Shinoda. 

“Do you smoke?” asked Shinoda, as he took a cigar out of 
his pocket. 

“No,” said Eiichi. 

“That’s good. And you don’t drink either?” 

“No, I don’t drink now. I find it makes no difference to 
me whether I drink or not.” 

‘The servant here struck into the conversation. 

“And he don’t eat fish or meat.” 

“That’s extraordinary,” said Shinoda. ‘What’s the reason 
of that?” 

“Tm a vegetarian,” said Eiichi, “and a rigid one too.” 

“What strange ideas you follow!” 

“Well, when you come to think of it, it’s a queer custom for 
human beings to eat meat. If you study the construction of 
the stomach and the teeth from a biological point of view you 
will find that man is an herbivorous animal. Even if that 
wasn’t so, why shouldn’t even mosquitoes and lice and fleas be 
free to enjoy their lives?” and Eiichi laughed. 

“Is it queer to eat meat?” said Shinoda. ‘Persons like you, 
of weak constitution, will die if they don’t eat meat.” 

“What, die if you don’t eat meat? ‘The Japanese farmers 
don’t look much like dying.” 

A notebook on the desk caught Shinoda’s eye. 

“Well, it’s no doubt quite true that people shouldn’t eat 
meat,” he said while he looked at it. ‘Buddha forbade the 
killing of living things. But nevertheless I shall go on eating 
meat,” and he burst into a loud laugh. ‘“What’s this?” he 
added, referring to the notebook. 

“Oh, that’s nothing,—only a diary of my thoughts.” 

“And what’s that pile of papers over there?” 

“These?” said Eiichi, and he ran through his fingers a pile 


p] 


232 BEFORE THE DAWN 


of two or three hundred sheets of manuscript. “You mustn’t 
laugh, but it’s a study of the history of physiognomy.” 

“What an extraordinary subject,” said Shinoda, and he burst 
into another laugh. 

For a while they were silent and then Shinoda spoke again. 

“Mr. Niimi,” he said, “‘the fact is that I called to see you 
to-day on a little business, if you don’t mind my mentioning 
its 

“Certainly,” replied Eiichi, “especially as it’s you,” and he 
gave a slight laugh. He thought that Shinoda had probably 
called about money. ‘The rumour that he had heard the other 
day in the Hanakuma quarter of Shinoda’s gaieties gave him 
the idea that he must be financially embarrassed. | 

“T came to you,” Shinoda went on, “because I thought you’d 
do what I want and also because I thought you were best able 
to do it. The fact is I want to know if you will be so good 
as to lend me some money.” 

Shinoda did not display any diffidence in making his re- 
quest. 

“Certainly,” said Eiichi. ‘How much do you want?” 

“T want just a hundred yen.” 

Eiichi wondered whether he had a hundred yen that he could 
lend, but nevertheless he asked boldly, “Do you want it to- 
day?” 

“Oh, no, not necessarily to-day. But I must have it by the 
end of the month.” 

“By the end of the month, eh? Yes, I think I can do it. 
I shall be able to oblige you about the twenty-fifth of the 
month. If you only want a hundred yen I can do it.” 

“Thank you. Please do your best for me. My wife in the 
country is sick or something and she’s sent to ask me for some 
money.” 

“Oh, that?ll be all right. [ll certainly put the matter 
through for you.” 

“Well, I haven’t any other business,” said Shinoda, “so Pll 
go now. Sorry to trouble you so early.” 

Shinoda affected to be quite at his ease, but he had flushed 
slightly and his eyes had a furtive look behind his glasses. 

“Well, good morning then,” said Eiichi, making no effort 
to detain him. 


A LOAN 233 


Shinoda took his hat and went downstairs. Eiichi did not 
get up to see him off, but merely murmured an excuse as he 
sat at his desk. 

The servant went down to the office with Shinoda and 
then came up again. Rokuya, the boy, also came up to take 
away the tobacco-box, and seeing Eiichi, began to talk. 

“Master,” he said, “that chap Shinoda, didn’t he come to-day 
to borrow money? Don’t he look proud and ’aughty down at 
the Pier and wasn’t he meek and humble to-day? He’s the most 
conceited of the lot down at the Pier.” 

“Well,” said Eiichi, “isn’t he the head there?” 

“They say he’s passed through the Tokyo Higher Commer- 
cial School,” Rokuya went on. “Are the fellows from that 
school always so proud?” 

Then happening to glance out of the window, another idea 
came into Rokuya’s head. 

“Ain’t it fine to-day,” he went on. “TI should like to go out 
into the country,” and he went bounding to the window. Ro- 
kuya was fourteen years old and a mischievous imp. 

“Don’t jump about like that, Roku,” said Eiichi. “You'll 
make a dust.” 

Rokuya took no notice, but only went out onto the drying- 
Stage. 

“You can see Anchor Hill,” he called out, “I should like 
to go out on the hills and enjoy myself.” 

“What does Mr. Shinoda do all day at the Pier?” asked 
‘Toku. 

“He’s the second in charge at the branch office there,” said 
Rokuya, “‘so he sits in a chair all day and puts on airs,” and 
Rokuya demonstrated what Shinoda looked like when he put 
on airs. 

“Don’t he do nothing else?” asked Toku. 

“He’s sent his missus away into the country and now he has 
to go to Fukuhara to enjoy himself. Master, did you hear?” 
and Rokuya sat down on the window-sill and began swinging 
his legs backwards and forwards. 

“Just hark to him talking,” laughed the servant. 

“I tell you that fellow makes himself felt in the office, 
All the other boys are afraid of him, but I go up to his desk 
and play all sorts of tricks.” 


234 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Hark at him,” said the servant, who was laughing all the 
time. | 

“He taught me a lot of English the other day, he did—dogu, 
that’s English for dog, and suchiima, that’s English for steamer, 
and vanchi, that’s launch. Then waebu is wave, and... DPve 
been and forgotten the others. ... No, I remember,— 
chimoni, that’s funnel.” 

“You remember quite a lot,” said Eiichi. . 

“I say, master, won’t you teach me a little English?” 

“Tsn’t what you know enough?” 

“Just that little? I want to know enough to be able to read 
all the books here quite easily. Then I shouldn’t be just the 
boy in Niimi’s Transport Agency. If I could talk English like 
the master I’d go round to the Pier and amaze ’em all by swag- 
gering round: and talking nothing but English—suran chun 
kichi ba. ‘Then I'd get hold of foreigners and speak to them 
in English. ‘That would be fun.” 

Toku was holding her sides with laughter. 

““What’s the use of just showing off?” asked Etichi. 

“Oh, I'd make a swagger and get lots of money.” 

“You're very avaricious. People who make a great show 
generally have no money.” 

“Well, I'd just make a show then, so won’t you teach me 
English?” 

“Shall I send you to a night-school?”’ 

“A night-school—an English one? (Yes, I'd go if you sent 
me.” 

‘““What’s the time, Roku?” 

“Tt’s about nine, I think.” 

“Just go downstairs and see if Mr. Murai has come.” ~ 

“Mr. Sankichi ain’t come to-day. I say, master, you saw 
that in the paper the other day?” 

“Yes, I saw it.” 

A voice from below called “Roku.” Jt was Murai’s voice 
without doubt. 

“‘Ah, Sankichi’s come,” said Rokuya. “He’s calling in that 
loud voice of his. I won’t take any notice. ‘Talk of the 
devil . . . It’s true, ain’t it, Toku? ... He’s being drained 
by some girl up in Yamanoté all right . . . Master, you should 
just see his house in Kitanagasa—it is a dirty place.” 


A LOAN 235 


“Yes? Have you been there?” 

“Lots of times,” 

Then the voice called again from below—“ Roku.” 

“TI ain’t going,” said Roku. “I say, master, Murai’s missus, 
she’s an awful creature. She’s as mean as mean can be.” 

“What funny faces you make,” said Toku. “But, I say, 
Roku, if you don’t go downstairs Mr. Muraj will get angry 
again. Go downstairs, do now.” 

“Sankichi don’t frighten me when he gets angry,” said Roku, 
and he stuck his head forward and bared his teeth and showed 
his contempt by a wave of his arm. 

“I say, master,” he went on, “have you seen his kids? Every 
one of ’em’s as ugly as sin, and they’re such hungry, mischievous 
little devils . . . Oh, there’s Sankichj coming upstairs,” and at 
the sound of steps on the stairs Rokuya darted out onto the dry- 
ing-stage and hid himself on the roof. 

As Rokuya suspected, the steps were those of Murai. He 
stuck his body half in at the door and, without saluting Eiichi, 
said, “Where’s that rascal Roku hiding again? JI heard his 
voice upstairs.” 

Then Murai went downstairs again muttering. 

Eiichi and the servant felt sorry for Murai and did not look 
at him, but after he had gone downstairs they looked at each 
other and laughed. Roku coming in from the roof also 
laughed. 

Then Ejichi, taking Roku with him, went out into the har- 
bour to look after the handling of cargo, a work which gave 
even Eiichi pleasure. 


CHAPTER XXIX 


The New Year 
MM KM KR RR KKK RRRARR 


IICHI became convinced that a business life would not 
kK suit him; he felt that he was not one who could fit him- 
self into the present social system. Nevertheless he had 
not the courage to abandon his business at once. He could not 
enter the dockers’ lodging-house as he had in the summer, and 
even though he would have liked to be a journalist his courage 
failed him when he thought that he would have to mix with 
such men as he met at the time of the election to the Municipal 
Assembly. He felt disgusted with himself. 

He took no interest in anything. He did not like the constraint 
of his work, and since the time that he had assisted in the Munici- 
pal election his heart had been disturbed by thoughts of Kiyono- 
suké and Kohidé,—thoughts which he could not drive out. With 
the disorder into which he himself had fallen he saw all things 
around him falling into disorder. The Niimi Transport Agency, 
he felt, could not continue its career much longer. Woman was 
the only thing that could bring comfort to his lonely heart. Yet 
a strong desire seized him to become pure and devote his life 
resolutely to social service. He had not been to the Tama-no-ya 
since he had taken the geishas Kiyonosuké and Kohidé to the 
theatre. 

{He felt keenly that religion was the only thing that could 
fave him at this critical moment of his life. As the end of the 


k 


| bes approached his religious fervour was more and more aroused 
/ and he went every evening to the Gospel Mission Hall in Fuku- 
/ haraguchi. He still felt some repugnance, but in his craving 
- for religion he could not afford to be particular regarding out- 
side formalities and creeds, and he listened in silence to the 
sermons and the testimonies. He had come to grasp more or 


less the essentials of the religion. 
236 


I 
§ 


THE NEW YEAR 237 


The settlement of accounts at the end of the year showed the 
instability of his business. A hundred yen had been lent to 
Shinoda out of nothing, and the money advanced for the insur- 
ance of Maruni’s goods had not been returned. Eiichi had 
been forced also to give a promissory note for nearly a thousand 
yen, the money that Hosokawa had embezzled. Altogether the 
coming year was looked forward to with some anxiety. 

Eiichi’s desire was to free himself as quickly as possible and 
throw himself into the Labour movement, but he felt that he 
could not abandon an office which, though small, yet enjoyed 
some amount of credit. 

The last day of the year 1908 came, and Eiichi attended the 
Watch Night service as he wanted to close the year in prayer. 
Fukuharaguchi seemed especially lively that evening, and al- 
though he did not feel much in the mood for prayer, he prayed 
that next year he might at least make some progress in the direc- 
tion of assisting in the Labour movement. 

Although the end of the year brought them trouble, New 
Year’s Day was cheerful. Enlivened by the sweet saké, Murai, 
Hozumi, Rokuya and the servant Toku all seemed happy. Eiichi 
also made an effort to appear cheerful, but found it impossible. 
Somehow he felt that he ought to submit to the inspiration of 
his religious inclinations and to the Heavenly Father, but at 
the same time his philosophical questionings, which had become 
the habit of years, deprived him of the courage to throw him- 
self whole-heartedly into religion. Now at the New Year 
especially, when he heard people talk of putting on their best 
clothes and going to the Hanakuma or the Fukuhara quarter to 
enjoy themselves, while he was left out in the cold, he felt how 
pitiful was his lot. 

He made a lonely tour of the Kyoto and Nara district. He 
arrived at misty Kyoto on the morning of the 2nd of January 
after a shake-up in the train and took a jinrikisha to the museum. 
Then he went from the Ginkakuji to Omuro, but he found 
nothing interesting. The next day he went to Nara, but it 
was all the same, and he repeated the words of the Emperor in 
the first scene of the second part of Faust: 


Ich habe satt das ewige Wie und Wenn. 
Es fehlt an Geld,—nun gut, da schaff es denn. 


255 , BEFORE THE DAWN 


On the fifth day after he left home, when the train was 
proceeding west of the small station of Horiuji, he had an in- 
describable feeling of melancholy as he saw the dark Buddhist 
temple in the grove to the northeast disappearing in the mist. 
Tired with his journey and also tired of life, he felt like crying. 
It would be better for him, he thought, if he made up his mind 
to lie down on the rails and let himself be run over by the next 
train, and thus pass into nothingness. It was only the thought 
that all things might not pass away that kept him dragging out 
his aimless life. Ah, why had he ever been born? He was 
a machine that would not work however much oil was applied. 
Even the consolation of Kohidé would be of no avail. 

It was five days since he had left home. His heart was op- 
pressed with the thought that there was no one to save him. 
God? No, God’s hands were too short to reach him even 
though he prayed. Women? No, they were still less power- 
less than God. Money? Money! Despicable! No, it was 
useless. 

He leaned his hot and aching head against the window, closed 
his eyes and dozed. The train was making a terrible noise as 
it sped along. He thought how nice it would be if the whole 
carriage were made of glass. 

From Tennoji the train stopped at a tiresome number of 
stations. Looking out of the window he saw distasteful names 
like Tenman Station or Tamazukuri Station, quite in the Osaka 
style, written on the square station lamps. Between the sta- 
tions there were deserts of tiled roofs with black smoke rising 
above them. Osaka by night looked an eerie place, something 
like a storm-tossed ocean. When the train was going along the 
banks of the Yodogawa he suddenly remembered that it was a 
famous place for suicides and also that he had once seen at the 
Aioiza Theatre in Kobé the drama of the suicide of Hanshichi 
Akaneya and Sankatsu, his sweetheart. Suicide and Osaka by 
night. He could not understand why, but they seemed to him 
to have a horribly close association. 

What a terrible place Osaka was! Crowded places were 
terrible. . 

The office had been fairly successful during his absence. On 
the 2nd of January, when they began work for the New Year, 
they had received notice from Oguri, a rice-broker in Shima- 


THE NEW YEAR “59 


kami-machi, that he would be sending five thousand bales of rice 
to Otaru. They had not handled such a large quantity of goods 
lately. 

“We're going to have luck this year, you see,” said Murai, 
with a loud burst of laughter from his wide mouth. 

On the other hand a customer who had supported them for 
over twenty years, when on the point of concluding another 
contract for the handling of indigo, finally decided not to let 
the goods pass through the hands of Niimi, but to send them 
direct to the steamer. Rokuya, the boy, was very much dis- 
gusted and expressed his resentment openly in front of Eiichi. 

“I don’t want to stay in this measly old office any more,” he 
said. “Tl go back home and be a farmer.” 

Murai thought that their policy that year should be to get 
hand in glove with the wholesale rice dealers, but that month 
the wholesale rice dealers were not very busy, and Oguri, after 
sending the five thousand bales to Otaru, only sent another 
thousand bales for Muroran. There was much talk of the 
banks in Tokyo practising caution. 

Soda’s account had not been paid, and the accounts for Jan- 
uary had been left unpaid until the 5th of F ebruary. Soda sent 
no more rice for transportation, and day after day, with only 
two or three hundred bales of rice to handle, the five of them 
sat at their desks with nothing to do but read the papers. As 
there was no work to do Rokuya got lazy and did not put away 
the papers, which were scattered all over the office. The con- 
fusion that reigned inside was not all, for just then some thirty 
or forty fellows, who were migrating from the interior of Awa 
Province to the Hokkaido, were parading the streets, making 
the vicinity very lively. In the midst of this confusion Eiichi 
failed to discover any reason for man’s existence. 


CHAPTER XXX 


Conversion 


MXM MMM MM OM OM MW OH OM 


HERE was only one way left for Eiichi and that was 
death,—cold, quiet death. He thought that he would 


like to do something violent to see whether he could 
die or not. The ordinary ways of death,—such as drowning, 
hanging, being run over or blown up, capital punishment and 
death from disease or poison,—he did not find interesting. But 
to run like one in a Marathon race,—to run and run till one was 
exhausted and one’s heart broke,—that he thought was the best 
way of dying. Would he be able to accomplish his self-de- 
struction in that way he wondered. At one time,—fortunately 
when no one was looking,—he threw himself down on the 
road, crying to his body, “Die!” but with no effect. Neverthe- 
less there was always the danger that in his present mood he 
would commit suicide. When he looked at a knife, or at the 
sea, or when he passed a chemist’s shop, he always thought of 
death. He thought that he would ill-treat his body as much as 
possible. Was there no means of compassing death? He took 
rambles along the shore from Suma to Akashi, but the more he 
gazed on death the more the marvellousness of existence im- 
pressed his tired eyes. Especially when he looked at the face 
of a child borne on the back of a woman life seemed to him 
more wonderful than nature itself. But he did not possess any 
sense that would allow him to probe still further into the won- 
ders of life and sound its depths. "Thus he wandered between 
life and death. Like one bewitched by an evil spirit he spent 
every day in his room weeping. He felt as if his body were 
swollen with water; his hands and feet seemed to him to be — 
growing enormously large and his brain and chest smaller, and — 
he thought that he would end by being a leper with a scaly 
skin. His breathing became painful and his tongue dried up. | 

240 


CONVERSION 241 


He wished that he could be lost in a dream even for a moment, 
to stop breathing even for an instant; that he could weep his 
heart out. His fits of sobbing verged on hysteria. He thought 
of himself as ashes and of the world as a crematorium, in the 
furnace of which flesh and blood were burned. Outside the 
furnace everything was ice-bound, and a northerly blast blew 
from the depths of hell, strong enough to rend the throat. His 
body was only half inside the furnace and the other half was 
frost-bitten. Could he yet revolt against the power of death? — 
break the furnace into pieces with his frost-bitten hands?— 
grasp the burning embers and throw them on the ice on which 
he stood? 

Ice melts, and then he would lose his foothold. Whither 
would he fall? Where? Where? ‘Then the eternal dream 
would begin. 

What were the State, civilisation, father, lover, existence, God, 
virtue, beauty?’—Were they not all nought? To fall, to fall, 
all things together with death, in the ruin of the world, identity 
extinguished,—would it not mean extinction? Ambition, mis- 
understanding, superstition, falsehood,—all the conventions that 
formed the crust of the social system,—would they not be scat- 
tered to the winds when his identity vanished? Life was like 
playing with a flower that bloomed out of nothingness. The 
nothingness of nothing—a kind of minus of minus! 

Must he still go on living? No, no, let existence, that blind 
guide, drag him to the edge of the universe quickly:—there he 
would jump down, flying willingly from the world of death to 
a still remoter world. 

Thus he thought, his mind filled with agony. Nothing could 
comfort him,—women, books, or the sun. He was disgusted 
with himself for his impotence, his want of spirit, his lack of 
ideality. 3 

His agony lasted for a month and a half, but the wonder of 
life had too strong a hold of him and finally it gained the vic- 
tory. He decided to accept all,—yes, all. Life and all its 
manifestations, that are borne onward upon the stream of time, 
he would accept. He was resurrected from the abyss of despair 
and returned to the wonderful world. He resolved that he 
would live steadfastly in the actual world, endued with the | 
strength of death. All things were wonderful,—death, he him- 


242 BEFORE THE DAWN 


self, the earth, stones, sand, food, women, girls, steamshipsp— 
even the void that he sought was itself wonderful. Colour, sun- 
light, design, roses, the cherry lips of girls,—all were wonder- 
ful;—-even clotted blood and sin and the defiled heart,—all 
were wonderful. He accepted them all. He resolved that he 
would live steadfastly,—that he would take heart and hencefor- 
ward struggle on bravely, and for that purpose he would accept 
all the facts of existence. Religion, together with all its sym- 
bols, he would also accept. He resolved that he would enter 
into the conflict with the courage of a suicide. 

Thus resolved he was gradually drawn to Christ. He told 
himself that it was not into the sea that he would throw him- 
self, but into the wonders of the world. 

So it came to pass that on the 14th of February he decided 
to profess himself a disciple of Christ. 

His church was one of the smallest in Kobé, at Mizukidori, 
Hyogo,—the Japan Christian Meeting-house, which was in 
the charge of an American missionary named Dr. Williams. 
Dr. Williams had been for some time at Tokushima, and Eiichi, 
in his Middle School days, had gone to him to read the Bible in 
English and to learn English conversation. The Gospel Mis- 
sion Hall Eiichi had found too noisy, and while he was looking 
for a place to suit his disposition he discovered Dr. Williams’ 
mecting-house and went there. It was on the second Sunday 
after he had discovered this small meeting-house that he was 
baptised. 

Nevertheless Eiichi liked the simple faith of the Gospel Mis- 
sion Hall, especially the sincere manner of the Pastor, Mr. T., 
and the hearty way in which he received people. He also liked 
the poor believers who went there. He therefore went every 
Sunday with the others attached to the Gospel Mission Hall,— 
headed by the Pastor, Mr. T., and a missionary, Mr. W., and 
including those who were studying the Bible in order to under- 
take evangelistic work,—to the park at Minatogawa to preach 
in the open air. 

After Eiichi became a follower of Jesus he tried hard to be 
second to none in his faith, but at first he felt rather shy in 
practising open-air preaching. He was afraid that some one 
would recognise him and reveal his own defects. 

It was a Saturday evening in March that he first went alone 


! 


- CONVERSION 243 


to the slums of Shinkawa at Fukiai, on the edge of Kobé, and 
started preaching in the street. When he was living at the 
dockers’ lodging-house the summer before he often passed that 
way and had thought that among all the slums in Japan there 
could be none so terribly dirty as those. ‘There were six streets, 
all horribly dirty, where over eight thousand people lived in 
eighty long buildings, which were divided up into rooms nine 
feet square, in some of which as many as nine people lived and 
slept. Eiichi thought that he must certainly go and live there, 
but as he knew no one there, for the sake of making acquaint- 
ances he decided to start open-air preaching. He sang a hymn 
alone and then started preaching, while the workers in their rags 
gathered round him with curious faces. The electric lights in 
the street shone brilliantly. 

“Cast aside the defilements of earth and look up to Heaven,” 
cried Eiichi, and he himself looked up and saw the clear spring 
sky, in which countless stars were shining,—truly a beautiful 
sight. Below the stars were the long lines of the electric lights, 
looking particularly brilliant that evening. CEjichi thought of 
the voice crying in the wilderness, and felt that he himself was 
a kind of prophet. 

He knew that he must bear himself bravely. He had rebelled 
against his school, his father, his family, and society, and hence- 
forward he must struggle along manfully alone. ‘Thus he 
thought as with tears in his eyes he preached the Gospel of 
Jesus. 

Eiichi preached for thirty or forty minutes the gospel of love 
as given in the Sermon on the Mount, while the audience around 
him asked,“What’s he talking about?” ‘Who is he?” to which 
some one replied, “He’s one of the Amen fellows.” Eljichi had 
come with the expectation of rough treatment and the abusive 
remarks of his audience did not trouble him. 

Then a ferocious looking man of about thirty, with a pock- 
marked face and a deformed body, and a look that clearly 
showed that he was an old offender against the law, drew near 
to Eiichi. 

“Won't you let me give my testimony?” he asked. 

Eiichi thought that he was a strange-looking fellow, but ob- 
served that he had a penny Bible in his hand. Wondering what 
would be the outcome, Eiichi asked the man to wait a minute, 


244 BEFORE THE DAWN 


and then broke off his sermon and introduced the man to the 
audience as “a gentleman who desired to bear witness.” The 
man’s testimony was as follows: 

“I come out of prison only the other day. My name’s Tora- 
taro Ueki. Everybody here in Shinkawa knows I’m a bad one. 
I went to prison when I was fifteen because I set fire to a 
house in the street and burned down the whole neighbourhood,— 
they’re all rebuilt now. I got nine years for that and only come 
out the other day. I can’t read the Bible much, but I learnt my 
letters in prison and then some one give mea Bible. ‘There’s 
good reading in this book for all, and as it only costs five sen 
all of you ought to get it and read it. I ain’t exactly cured of 
all my wickedness yet, but you should go and see Asashiro Mura- 
kami at Yamanoté. He was the cleverest pickpocket in the west 
country, but now he’s converted.” 

The man did not know exactly how to finish his speech and 
retired somewhat confused. 

After the preaching was over and Eiichi was preparing to 
go, Torataro Ueki stopped him. . 

“Just wait a bit,’ he said. “I’ve got something to ask 
you. Just come with me for a moment.” _ 

Exichi was a little bit taken aback by the familiar manner 
of the man and his assertive way of speaking, but his experiences 
at the dockers’ lodging-house had enabled him to get a little in- 
sight into the mental condition of the working classes, and he 
followed Ueki. 

Ueki led him into the depths of a very dark alley and stopped 
before a tenement house. 

“Are you a Christian pastor?” he asked familiarly. 

“No, Pm not a pastor or anything like that.” 

“Can you preach when you’re not a pastor?” 

“Of course I can.” 

“Do you know Asashiro Murakami, the pastor?” 

“No, I don’t know him.” 

“That’s funny. You must be a greenhorn at Christianity. 
Everybody in Kobé knows Asashiro Murakami of Okuhirano. 
He helps every one what comes out of prison. Look here, I 
want to go about preaching Christianity like you. Where do 
I have to go? Where’s the head office of the Christians in 
Kobé?” 


CONVERSION 245 


He spoke as though he knew all about it though he knew 
nothing. 

““There’s no special headquarters for Christians,” said Eiichi. 

“Well, where’s your church?” 

“It’s the meeting-house in Mizukidori in Hyogo.” 

“Is there a church there? I never knew of it. What’s the 
name of the pastor?” 

““He’s an American named Williams.” 

“A foreigner, is he? Well, foreigners are kind. You won’t 
get angry at my asking you, will you, but what do they pay you 
every month for going about preaching?” 

“T don’t get any pay for it,—I do it for love.” 

“That ain’t possible. They must give you something. I 
heard they give ’em at least twenty-five yen a month. You 
ain’t telling the truth. You know that book ‘Twenty-three 
Years behind the Iron Bars.’ The man that wrote it, as soon 
as he got out of prison he became a preacher. I want to be a 
preacher like him, but I ain’t got any one to help me. That’s 
why I asked if you knew where the head office is. When I 
come out of prison the people in this house”—and he pointed 
his finger to the place—“they took me in, but I spend my time 
dawdling about every day. The people in that house, you 
know, they’ve looked after me ever since I was a boy, and they 
don’t make any trouble about feeding me as long as I like, but 
it’s awkward idling away your time and not having any money. 
Don’t you know of any easy work that I can earn a little money 
at? I’m a bit deformed, you know,”—and he showed that his 
right arm was a little shorter than his left. “I’ve got lots about 
this and other things I want to tell you and things I want to ask 
you. Where’s your house?” 

Eiichi was surprised at the man’s rough way of speaking and 
thought that it would never do for him to visit the office in 
Kajiya-machi. However, he told him that it was in Kajiya- 
machi, in Hyogo. “If you ask for the Niimi Transport Agency 
you'll soon find it,” he added. 

“Niimi Transport Agency? Kajiya-machi? Are you going 
home now? You must be a very strong believer to come out 
in this cold weather to preach. I’ve got a lot of things to ask 
you and | want to talk to you about my own circumstances too.” 

As he had a long way to go Eiichi made an excuse and was 


246 BEFORE THE DAWN 


going out of the alley when Ueki said he would see him off 
and followed him. ‘To cut the story short, the man, having no 
work, and finding that he could not become an evangelist, 
wanted to borrow some money so that he could set himself up 
as a cake-seller. 

Unfortunately Eiichi had very little money on him and thus 
was unable to give Ueki the assistance he required at once. 
Moreover he did not know what kind of man Ueki was. In 
these circumstances they were about to part when the man, 
with an excuse, made a petition for the loan of a few sen. 

Eiichi took all the money he had on him out of his purse and 
gave it to the man,—it was only eighty-one sen, and the man, 
without a word of thanks, said a hasty good-bye and went off. 

Eiichi was surprised at the manner of the man and under- 
stood well what the atmosphere in the slums must be like if 
men like him lived there. 

The next day was Sunday and Eiichi went to the meeting- 
house in Mizukidori. When he got home he found Ueki wait- 
ing for him, and all the people in the office, from Murai down- 
wards, with a curious look on their faces. Ueki asked Eiichi to 
come outside and there begged for a loan of twenty yen so that 
he could set himself up as a cake-seller. Eiichi thought that the 
man had no right to make such a demand, but as he had a desire 
to put into practice the teachings of Jesus he promised to lend 
the man the money. But when Eiichi went back into the office 
and asked Murai to advance him twenty yen, Murai objected. 

“What are you going to do with it, Mr. Eiichi?” he asked. 
“You're surely not going to lend it to that man, are you? How 
could any one be so foolish as to lend twenty yen to a man like 
that? Five yen’s enough—quite enough,” and he took five yen 
out of the safe and gave it to him. 

Eiichi took the five yen and sent Ueki away with it with an 
excuse. 

After that Ueki called at Eiichi’s office every day, but was 
unable to see Eiichi, who happened to be out in the harbour at- 
tending to cargo. 

On Thursday evening, when Eiichi went to the meeting-= 
house, Dr. Williams asked him if he knew a man named Ueki. 

“Yes, I know him,” said Eiichi. “Why!” 


CONVERSION 247 


“Well, he said that you told him to ask me for fifteen yen, 
so I gave him five yen.” 

“What an insolent fellow he is!” thought Eiichi, and he told 
Dr. Williams the whole story from the beginning,—how he 
had been preaching in the street in the slums and how the man 
had appeared. 

Dr. Williams was delighted when he heard the story, and 
proposed that he should go with Eiichi to preach in the slums, 
But Eiichi declined the offer. He felt that to go with a for- 
eigner might cause a misapprehension, but he expressed the hope 
that Dr. Williams would give him his moral support. 

From that time Eiichi left all the affairs of the office in 
the hands of Murai. He had determined to devote himself 
entirely to religious work. 


CHAPTER XXXI 
The Capitalist 
RRR MMM KM MM MW Mw 


IICHI continued to show great religious earnestness, but 
K his religious ardour did not help to resuscitate the busi- 

ness of his office. Murai and Hozumi were quite in- 
different to religion and said nothing to him about his open-air 
preaching at Minatogawa. 

“Mr. Eiichi has become a very earnest Christian lately,” was 
the only remark made. Hozumi said nothing at all. They 
had not been going to the brothels lately, however; the Hoso- 
kawa affair had apparently taught them a lesson. | 

As business had become so quiet Eiichi thought he would de- 
vote his time to writing a study of the life of Jesus, and every 
morning he read the works of Sandae, Hills, Schweitzer and 
others. ‘Then every Sunday he assisted in the Sunday School or 
preached by himself in the open air. He went to the Fukiaj 
slums two or three times after his first visit with some of the 
pupils of the Mission Hall, but as it was rather far and he 
thought it was useless to divide his energies, he did not go again. 

The cherry-blossoms at Suma flowered and faded and it be- 
came the season for the dispatch of Banshu vermicelli to all 
parts of the country. Liichi’s office became a little busy, there- 
fore. 

““There’s three hundred boxes of vermicelli from Soda, eh? 
That chap don’t want to send it through us, but he’d like to get 
back the thousand yen that Hosokawa took and that’s why he 
comes to us. If he got his money back I bet he’d send it by 
the ‘Takagi Transport Agency. I wonder if anything has come 
from Awa to-day. It would be nice to get some goods from 
Awa. I’m getting tired of doing nothing.” 

It was the mischievous Rokuya speaking, but such complaints 


now grew tewer. 
248 


THE CAPITALIST 249 


It was April when Murai made a proposal to Elichi. 

“How would it do to mortgage the telephone to Miyoshi of 
the Railway Transport Agency in Kitanagasa-dori, and use the 
money to pay off Soda?” 

Eiichi raised no objection, of course. Murai told him that 
Miyoshi wanted to buy out the Niimi Agency. 

Summer came and found Eiichi living a very humdrum life. 
Women and love had been forgotten. ‘This quiet life had 
enabled him to write a hundred and fifty or sixty pages of his 
study of the life of Jesus. He went to the harbour as usual 
to transact his business and made many friends among the boat- 
men. 

When Eiichi went among the boatmen and heard them shout- 
ing their jokes at one another he felt very happy. At noon in 
summer, when the unloading and loading of cargo was finished, 
they all stripped themselves and plunged into the sea, their beau- 
tiful brown, lithe bodies floating on the waves. ‘The white 
foam rippled over the blue sea, while overhead the sun shone 
brilliantly. The whole harbour sparkled and the air was filled 
with indescribable murmurs of the joy of life, coming from he 
knew not where. 

“Come in, Mister Niimi,” yelled one of the boatmen, and 
two or three others took up the cry. LEnlichi, attired only in his 
loin cloth, plunged into the water from the deck of the steamer. 

No sooner had he struck the water with a splash than he 
seemed to be going down to the bottom of the sea, with the 
foam flying round him. ‘Then at the moment when he began 
to be anxious as to how far he would go down, he found him- 
self floating again on the surface of the sea. Striking out 
among the blue waves while recovering his breath, he looked 
around him and found the sea also a thing of beauty. ‘The sea 
and everything was sublime; it was impossible not to glory in 
the summer sun and the sea. 

When he got back to the dark office in Kajiya-machi every- 
thing seemed to him to look very mean and dirty. ‘That day 
particularly Murai’s remarks appeared very trivial. That was 
because Murai could talk of nothing but the difficulties into 
which the Niimi Transport Agency had fallen. 

At the end of July a letter came from his sister Emi, whose 
whereabouts had been so long unknown. She wrote:— 


250 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Excuse me for not having written to you for so long. After 
I parted from my brother I had nothing but misfortunes. I 
changed my place thirteen times and at last got into the house 
of a person named ‘Takeda, who I afterwards found was an 
old school friend. ‘There the master of the house helped me 
and I got married to the manager of a branch office in Formosa, 
at the address written on the envelope. The climate in Formosa 
does not suit me, however, and it is my intention to return to 
Japan as quickly as possible. I want to get back quickly because 
I am with child and moreover have symptoms of beri-beri. I 
thought about brother so much that about a month ago I wrote 
to stepmother to inquire, and got news that father was dead and 
brother in the Hyogo office. I cry every day. It-seems very 
unfilial that I was not able to be with father when he died, but 
I resigned myself with the thought that it was my fate. Please 
take care of yourself, brother. I have no one to look after me 
but you, so please, if you care for me at all, take care of your- 
self.” 

July passed. Hozumi’s wages had not been paid for three 
months and Rokuya’s for four months. This was because 
Hozumi and Rokuya deliberately refused to take the money 
while business was so bad. Hozumi had been in the office since 
he was a little chap and thought of it as his home. He there- 
fore wished to do what he could for the office. Eiichi felt very 
grateful to him. 

“As we don’t get any wages,” they said, “we'll take it out in 
food,” and they certainly did eat. The way they ate was a 
source of amusement and made everybody in the office hold their 
sides with laughter. 

What was wrong with the business was that they could not 
get enough goods to handle. ‘While Eiichi’s father was alive 
ninety per cent. of the products of Tokushima Prefecture used 
to pass through the hands of Niimi for transmission all over 
the country, but since his father’s death much money had been 
expended uselessly and the salaries and miscellaneous expenses 
were bringing the business to ruin. 

Eiichi wanted to hand over the business to some one else and 
himself enter a reputable office as clerk. The negotiations be- 
tween Murai and Miyoshi were therefore continued. Finally 
Eiichi was engaged by the Kobé Marine Insurance Company, 


THE CAPITALIST, 251 


with which the Maruni affair had made him acquainted, and 
after the Bon festival he began to attend the office of the com- 
pany in Moto-machi. The progress of affairs had been like that 
of a storm. Eiichi was filled with misgivings every day of the 
approach of a low pressure area. 

It was September 2nd. Eiichi was going hastily along Hon- 
machi towards Minatogawa to attend the office of the insurance 
company. Ejichi’s way of walking when he was going quickly 
was the talk of the office. He went along with his head thrust 
forward, swaying his body from side to side. 

A man walking in the middle of the road was coming in the 
opposite direction,—a stout, tall, dark man, dressed in Japanese 
clothes and with his hair cropped short. Eiichi recognised him 
as Miyoshi and then remembered that the interest on his loan 
had not been paid. Eiichi was dressed in foreign clothes, but 
his boots had not been cleaned, his trousers not creased, and his 
collar was dirty. 

Eiichi thought at first that he would pass without even stopping 
to bow, but then he summoned up the courage to do so, ‘They 
met just in front of Komaya’s, which had long been famous as 
the best cake-shop in Hyogo. 

Miyoshi bowed his close-cropped head and stopped. 

“Ah, Mr. Niimi,” Miyoshi said in a friendly way, “where are 
you going?” 

At this unexpected greeting Eiichi became rather confused. 
He bowed and explained briefly that he was going to the office. 

“I was just going to call at your place,” said Miyoshi. “Is 
Mr. Murai in, do you know?” 

**Yes, he is in.” 

“Well, then, Pll go along,” said Miyoshi and off he went. 

Eiichi felt as glad as if he had escaped from the claws of a 
dragon. Miyoshi, he thought, seemed as though about to say 
something else, and then, whether out of pity for Eiichi or 
because the place was too public, he desisted. 

“What strange creatures we are!” thought Eiichi, as he passed 
Minatogawa and hastened along Aioi-machi. ‘“Miyoshi’s kinder 
than I thought. You can’t get to the bottom of a man’s 
heart when you’ve only met him once or twice. I didn’t think 
he’d greet me this morning,” and Eiichi, as he went along with 
his head bent, gazing at the stones in the road, reconstructed the 


252 BEFORE THE DAWN 


scene of the meeting in front of Komaya’s. While he was 
crossing Aioi Bridge he thought that while people suffered from 
having to pay interest to the capitalists, the capitalists’ claims 
were perfectly reasonable from their own point of view. It 
was a mistake to condemn the capitalists. If there were people 
who wished to live on capital and interest, let them do so. 
If there were other people who were envious of the lazy capi- 
talists, let them first abstain from working. If people could 
not take pleasure in the enjoyments of others they were worth- 
less. Could not beggars, however poor themselves, find some 
satisfaction in the wealth of others? If one did not regard 
matters with absolute disinterestedness one could not be said to 
have obtained enlightenment. Emerson, in his historical essays, 
had adopted much the same attitude. But that was no reason 
for discarding Socialism. His Socialism was of a broader char- 
acter. 

Miyoshi, by sucking his blood, would grow fat, and when 
Miyoshi grew fat he grew fat himself. If he and Miyoshi came 
to the same degree of fatness, then “fat people’? would no longer 
exist in the world. But didn’t it follow that this sameness would 
be uninteresting? Even if everybody became thin, if there was 
one man left as fat as a wrestler that would be satisfactory. He 
meant that one should desire some degree of greatness rather 
than vapidity. That was true. If Socialism was not founded on 
that basis then there was no hope of realising pure Socialism. 
Was not the fundamental principle of Socialism pleasure in 
others’ progress? Was it Socialism to enhance one’s position at 
the expense of the position of others? Why was it important 
to keep one’s own position on the same level as that of others? 
Wasn’t it from the reasoning that if one raised one’s position to 
that of others they would be happy? ‘To lower others by raising 
one’s own position, was that Socialism? If Society was an 
organism—a very arbitrary conclusion—equality must prevail 
throughout the difference. The conclusion was that if he were 
run over and killed by a train or an electric tram it would show 
that Christianity could make sacrifices to civilisation. He smiled 
at the thought. A train was actually coming from the east— 
from Tokyo, suggesting thoughts of life. He was very fond of 
trains. 

But he was no good. He had to sit at a desk and enter figures 


: 
: 


THE CAPITALIST 253 


as his daily life. It was a competition in patience with his nib. 

Ah, if only the Christian orphanages were a little larger and 
could take in men like him! But that was a desire to be kept 
to himself; in the face of the world he must show an iron in- 
dependence. It was the secret of a philosopher. That was why 
there were many hypocrites among philosophers. What had he 
gained from Harnack’s history of faith? What had Theodore 
Hall’s study of the English religious movement taught him? 
There was need for an orphanage for adults. It was impossible 
to seize the reality of Love unless religion was made material. 
When economic conditions were bad religious fervour increased. 
The history of all countries proved that, especially among the 
present-day English. He would build an adult orphanage. 
The greatest demand of the present age was not for children’s 
orphanages—not for George Miillers and Juji Ishiis. Was it 
not for an artistic, Greco-Jewish Socialism or Anarchism? An 
orphanage for great men! In that orphanage the great men and 
women of the world, those who were conscious of their great- 
ness, might find asylum. . . . Because he carried this secret at 
the bottom of his heart. . . . Because he had no father... . 
Christ himself was an orphan. He had to call on his Father. 

He had crossed Aioi Bridge and was passing a butcher’s and 
a very fine barber’s shop. From the opposite direction a tall, 
elegant Japanese gentleman was coming with boots that shone 
like lacquer. Eiichi thought that he should like to be able to 
put on such style, but he had no money. He wished that he 
had money. At that moment he came to the corner of the stone 
building of the insurance company. A fine foreign lady was 
coming down a side street. What a beautiful face she had! 
Why were foreigners so good-looking he wondered as he pushed 
open the door and went upstairs to his desk. 

Undoing his parcel, containing the second volume of Ruskin’s 
Modern Painters, he laid it by the side of his desk, and after 
greeting his fellow clerk, Shigeda, he took out the calculation 
which he had left unfinished the previous afternoon and began 
to enter up the figures. 

Why was it that people bowed by bending their heads and 
inclining their bodies forwards? At the theatre, when the 
heroine was crying, she bent her elbows and covered her face 
with her hands. Why was that, when bending backwards would 


254 BEFORE THE DAWN 


look much more charming than bending forwards? How could 
it be explained by the principles of dynamics? Such was the 
strange problem he raised. 

While he was revolving these things in his mind he went on 
entering up the figures quite peacefully, with a contented 
feeling. 

It must be by the principle of acceleration. From of old the 
technical terms of dynamics had been applied to the head in 
traditional etiquette in speaking of it as high or low. A per- 
pendicular line stood for the excitation of the spiritual influences; 
a horizontal line for the carnal impulses. ‘These were the gen- 
eral principles of etiquette. They went on all fours in imitation 
of animals—that was the aim of etiquette. No, no, that was 
extreme. Yet he would like to know the explanation of custom 
and heredity, constitutionally and physically. He dipped his pen 
in the inkpot thinking of all sorts of things suggested by Ruskin’s 
work. 

He went over to the spittoon near the window—he suffered 
from a catarrh—and looked out of the window for 2a:moment. 
There was a finely-dressed lady with a girl-student passing. As 
the weather was like summer she was wearing a white lace scarf 
as she chattered to the girl. “If she would just look up at me,” 
thought Eiichi, but she passed by. In Tanaka’s foreign goods 
shop opposite there were three or four foreigners. A Chinese 
in a jinrikisha passed quickly. After that came a bicycle and then 
two shopboys chattering. “Then a cart. | 

“Society is plural,” was the conclusion of Eiichi as he re- 
turned to his seat. He smiled as he thought that Ruskin would 
deny the beauty of the city. He entered 1,785 among the figures. 
How strange figures are, he thought, as he looked at them. 

About four o’clock in the afternoon he went home, reading 
Ruskin’s Modern Painters on the way. ‘The world was no longer 
hateful to him. ‘The movements of mankind were harmonious 
he thought, as a jinrikisha rushed past him. 

When he got home he was told that Murai and Miyoshi were 
waiting for him. As he anticipated, Miyoshi told him that the 
negotiations for amalgamation had been completed and he hoped 
Ejichi would approve of them. 

Eiichi showed no discontent. It was the same to him either 
way. If the matter was settled, then so much the better. 


THE CAPITALIST 255 


He congratulated Miyoshi in the tone of one who was only 
a third party in the matter. 

““Have you been here ever since this morning, Mr. Miyoshi?” 
he asked, 

“Yes, Mr. Murai kindly provided a feast for me,” and 
Miyoshi laughed, creasing the wrinkles round his eyes and plump- 
ing out his fat cheeks. 

“Really? I didn’t know we had anything special in the 
house,” said Eiichi. 

“T ordered something from the Aozen restaurant,” said Murai 
earnestly, sticking out his chin. 

“The young master will assent to the arrangement, I know,” 
continued Murai. 

Eiichi, whose agreement was thus requested, knew nothing 
of what had been arranged, but he thought it was not the 
time to ask questions, so he only said that he would certainly 
agree. 

“Well, we must celebrate the occasion by having a fowl or 
something,” suggested Murai. 

Miyoshi assented, and Murai, calling Rokuya, gave him two 
one-yen notes from his purse and told him to go out and buy a 
fowl, Eiichi saw that Murai had a lot of money in his purse ; 
he was richer than Eiichi. 

The fowl came and some wine, and when they had got 
rather flushed with the wine, Murai and Miyoshi began to praise 
Fiichi’s father, saying what a good speaker he was, and how 
clever he was, and how quickly women fell in love with him, 
and how capable men were always attractive to women. F inally 
the talk drifted to Kohidé of the ‘Tama-no-ya, and how Eiichi 
was very like his father in his cleverness and. in the way girls 
fell in love with him. If he had a capital of twenty thousand 
yen and went into the foreign trade, say with South America, 
why he would be able to build up a big business. 

Miyoshi spoke as though he had been well acquainted with 
_ ftichi’s father. He said that he had met him often at Mr. 
_ Katsumaro Tajima’s house. 

___ Yes, when he was told of it, Eiichi felt that he was very like 
his father. He trembled when he thought that he had inherited 
his father’s lust for women. Was that all? Had he not in- 
herited all his father’s defects,—all his sins? As he thought 


256 BEFORE ‘THE DAWN 


of this a shudder of repugnance ran through him. Even if he 
had the defence of religion he felt that it was his destiny. 

Miyoshi departed on foot about nine o’clock. He was so 
thrifty that he never rode in jinrikishas. Murai also said that 
he was going, but Eiichi detained him to inquire about the details 
of the negotiations. Murai told them with a good deal of pride. 

“Well, for the firm’s name only he’s paying one thousand 
five hundred yen,” said Murai. ‘“That’s a good price, eh? 
Then he’s going to put three thousand yen capital into the busi- 
ness, which ain’t to be despised, and if you'll consent to work in 
the office he’ll give you as much as you get from the insurance 
company. When the staff’s complete he’s going to advertise 
the company on a large scale and get us to go round for orders, 
and if the goods come in well, everything will go all right. Of 
course, the one thousand one hundred yen borrowed from Miyoshi 
will make the amount he pays in only one thousand nine hundred 
yen, but we shan’t have to pay any interest on it.” 

Murai told his story rapidly without stopping to take breath. 

“T suppose the profits will be divided according to the amount 
paid in,” said Ejichi. 

“Yes, that will be the arrangement eventually.” 

Eiichi made no objection, but he couldn’t help thinking that 
one thousand five hundred yen was rather cheap for the goodwill 
of a firm like that of Niimi, which had been in existence’ for 
twenty years and whose name was a good advertisement, to say 
nothing of the telephone and the office books. But Eiichi was 
tired of the office and he said nothing. 


: 


CHAPTER XXXII 
At Death’s Door 


ARR RKR MK KM MK MM MK 


"["s affairs of the office having now been set in order, 


Eiichi devoted himself more zealously than ever to re- 

ligious propaganda. From September the 5th he began 
open-air preaching in Moto-machi, at the corner of Ichida’s 
photographic studio, in all weathers. He was dissatisfied with the 
obscure methods of the present-day churches and wished to go 
forward in his own way. 

He continued preaching in Moto-machi every evening 
throughout September. Sometimes the police interfered with him 
and he was forced to suspend his task, but he was not the kind 
of man to waver. He preached on the doctrine of non-resistance 
of Tolstoy and George Fox, and of the thorough reform of 
civilisation, But he gained no adherents: after preaching for a 
full month there was nothing to show for his labours, although 
he poured out his sad appeal to God more fervently than Jonah 
at Nineveh. His perseverance in open-air preaching caused his 
colleagues in the insurance company to treat him as a lunatic 
and he could not make friends among them. 

At the end of September he had a return of the fever to which 
he had been so long a stranger. After just a month had elapsed, 
on the evening of the Sth of October, about nine o’clock, as: 
he was preaching in the street, it began to rain. Eiichi, how- 
ever, did not stop preaching. For a week his voice had been get 
ting weaker, but to him religion was not a pastime; he threw 
himself into it with all his strength of mind and body. When 
it began to rain his body was swaying to and fro, and at one 
time he had difficulty in getting his breath. He began to feel 
horribly cold, and he remembered that this was the prelude to 
fever. 

“In conclusion,” he cried, “I tell you God is love, and I will 

257 


258 BEFORE THE DAWN 
affirm God is love till I fall. I do not mean to say that this 


God whom our eyes cannot see is love, but I do mean that where 
there is love, God and life reveal themselves.” 

This was his parting message. His fever was so high that 
he felt like falling down. He dragged his heavy body wet with 
the rain, as far as the Gas Company’s shop, when everything 
grew black before his eyes and he felt a deadly sickness. “TI shall 
fall, I shall fall,” he kept repeating to himself, as he went along 
in front of the big glass window of the Gas Company, but he 
summoned up all his courage and continued to walk, till at last 
he fell down in the rain with a thud. He felt as if all the 
muscles in the lower part of his body were cramped. ‘The 
strange idea came to him that he would lie there-and take a 
quiet rest, and he remembered afterwards falling into a coma- 
tose condition, till at last he heard faintly the confused voices of 
the people who crowded round him. 

“‘He’s the young man who preaches at the corner of Moto- 
machi.” 

“He’s fainted.” 

““Fainted?” 

“Fainted.” 

He heard the words passing from mouth to mouth. 

“‘Who is he?” asked some one, and another answered, “‘He’s 
the young master at Niimi’s Transport Agency in Kajiya-machi.” 

Eiichi could not move, and felt relieved that there were people 
even in that neighbourhood who knew him. 

He lay in the rain for about fifteen minutes, finally recover- 
ing his powers and standing up. During the fifteen minutes 
that he lay there no one assisted him nor asked him to come into 
their house. ‘Society is heartless,” he thought, but he got up 
safely and stumbled along to the jinrikisha stand at the corner 
of Moto-machi. The crowd of people looking on merely said 
““How sad!” as Eiichi, drenched to the skin, swung in a jinrikisha 
in his wet clothes to Kajiya-machi. When he got to the office 
he had not the strength to go upstairs to the sitting-room and fell 
down again in the entrance. Hozumi jumped up from his desk 
and called to Yamada, who was upstairs, and the two of them 
put Eiichi to bed and called a doctor by telephone. 

The doctor, when he came, said it was serious and that there 
were symptoms of pneumonia, and for a week Eiichi was unable 


Z s p 
= ’ 
te Eg 


AT DEATH’S DOOR 259 


to get proper sleep owing to the constant pain. His temperature 
was never below 104 degrees; if it fell to 100, as it did once or 
twice in the morning, in the afternoon it was soon 104 and over 
again. Also he had a very painful cough, which choked him and 
made him bring up blood. Hozumi and Rokuya kindly brought 
him ice-bags and ice-pillows and did everything they could for 
him, but Eiichi thought that he would like to have a woman’s 
hand to soothe his pillow. Men were lacking in something. 
But then, to have a nurse would cost money, and Eiichi had no 
money. Murai was not kindly disposed enough to suggest having 
a nurse. LEjichi did not entirely forget how nice it would be to 
have a kind girl like Kiyonosuké or Tsuruko to nurse him, but, 
of course, he had not the strength to long for Kiyonosuké. ‘Toku, 
the servant, was too busy in the kitchen to attend to everything. 
Eiichi kept telling himself that it would be better to die than 
suffer such pain. 

On the 12th of October Dr. Williams called for the first 
time to ask after him; he had not known till then that Elichi 
was so seriously ill. Dr. Williams-placed his hand on Eiichi’s 
forehead and prayed. “You mustn’t try to do too much, Mr. 
Niimi,” he said as he went away. 

In his place came one of the lady evangelists, named Tamaé 
Kubo, who was eight or nine years older than Eiichi. She nursed 
him for some time. 

Eiichi was greatly pleased at this and requested her to stay 
and look after him as long as possible. She was not very popular 
among the church members and was said to have been crossed 
in love, but she kindly stayed and nursed him through the night. 
Eiichi, seeing her kindness, decided that without Christianity 
mankind was worthless. He could only speak in a low voice, but 
he whispered in her ear, “If I get well I shall certainly enter the 
slums at Shinkawa and offer myself as a sacrifice to God,—if I 
get well, thanks to all your kindness.” 

Ten days passed, but there was no improvement in his condi- 
tion. He had ceased coughing blood, but his pulse had become 
very uncertain. Sometimes it would be at 122 a minute, but on 
the other hand sometimes it seemed to stop altogether. It was 
because his heart was so irregular that the doctor thought he 
would die. He did not say so to Eiichi, but he told Murai and 
Miss Kubo. 


260 BEFORE THE DAWN 


On the 16th of October, about seven o’clock in the evening, 
Dr. Williams and four or five of the members of the church 
who knew Enichi assembled round his pillow and began a fare- 
well prayer meeting. ‘The others were in silent prayer, but Eiichi 
heard faintly the voice of Miss Kubo as she offered up a beau- 
tiful supplication. Eiichi grasped his own wrist to feel his pulse 
and was surprised that he could feel nothing. But the duty 
which God had entrusted to him, which was to realise the spirit 
of Jesus by work among the poor—for the sake of accomplishing 
which holy ambition he wished to spend his life in the slums— 
convinced him that he would not die. He believed that he had 
leapt over death and thrust himself into that mysterious world. 

He concentrated his gaze on the reflection of the electric light 
fixed on the pillar by the alcove. He gazed at it for one minute, 
two minutes,—as long as fifteen minutes, and during that time, 
in some indescribable way, he felt himself absorbed in the un- 
known wonders of reality. The point of light on which he 
concentrated his gaze appeared to him like a rainbow, the room 
in which he lay like Paradise and the common quilt that covered 
him like cloth of gold. It seemed as if he was being held tight 
by the hand of God the Father,—nay, that God was something 
closer to him than a father,—that God dwelt in him. It was a 
joyful feeling that he was immersed in God. No sooner had this 
joyful feeling come over him than his fever departed and he 
was surprised to find that his pulse had returned to normal. 

‘The next morning Eiichi had two dreams. ‘The first was that 
he had gone sea-bathing, though rather early in the season, when 
he suddenly developed a cold shudder, and his old disease of the 
lungs reappeared. When he coughed, blood rushed from his 
mouth and the white sand was stained with blood. It was a 
distressing dream. 

The other dream he had at dawn was that he had left the 
office and was taking a journey in Korea, where he had come 
to some unknown place. It suddenly came into his head that 
Kant had been born in that village over there, and it dawned 
upon him gradually as he walked on that Kant was not a Ger- 
man, but a Japanese, and everybody had made a mistake. Nor- 
inaga Motoori,* who had lived about a hundred years ago, was 
a friend of Kant’s. The road was sc narrow that it was a 

* A celebrated Japanese grammarian, lived 1730-1801. 


AT DEATH’S DOOR 261 


wonder that a cart could go along it, but as it was sand you could 
see the marks of the wheels. ‘Turning to the left he came to a 
large grove, with a small tiled house with barred windows in 
the centre. In front there was a rough fence, breast-high, round 
a pasture, and at the entrance there was a lamp, on the face of 
which was written “‘Kant,” “Kant,” “Kant,” the last time in 
Japanese letters. ‘This must be Kant’s house, he thought. On 
the left there was another way in, with mulberry plantations on 
either side, and as he went along it he remembered that Kant’s 
parents died when he was small and he was adopted into another 
family. Kant was an orphan, and so he constructed a great but 
melancholy system of philosophy. While he was thinking of 
this, the small Kant, with his hair tied up in two knots, dressed 
in a sleeved kimono reaching to his knees and a stiff sash, came 
through the mulberry plantation driving a cow. Just as he was 
thinking ‘Can this little boy be Kant?—just like Sontoku Nino- 
miya,” * he disappeared, and there was a rather small temple 
in his place. ‘What is it?” he thought. “Isn’t it a temple?” 
And then he saw a priest reading the scriptures. “What? Is 
Kant enshrined as a Buddha?” he thought. “There was a large 
crowd of people gathered together worshipping Kant as the chief 
Buddha, and as he looked he discovered that among the wor- 
shippers there were two Christian pastors. On the left of the 
temple hall there was a garden surrounded by a hedge. On the 
right were steps, and at the bottom a little lake or spring. 

He read one of the little books they were selling in the hall. 
There were pictures here and there and anecdotes of Kant in his 
boyhood, and there were exaggerated statements about how Kant, 
like Yoshitsuné, could jump over nine ships, with a picture of 
him doing it. It also stated that the spring on the right of the 
hall was dug by Kant, and that the spring was deeper than that 
dug by Kansuké Yamamoto on Kunozan, which was over two 
hundred feet deep, and nobody could ever ascertain how deep 
it was. Also that when you looked into the spring you saw a 
proof that Kant had been worshipped by many pious men and 
maidens for the increase of their intelligence, because the spring 
was full of pestles that had been thrown in. 


* A well known economist (1787-1856), who not only restored the 
prosperity of his own family but also rendered similar services for others 
and was finally employed by the Shogun. 


262 BEFORE THE DAWN 


The Christian pastors, seeing Eiichi standing in front of the 
hall, asked him where he had been to school, and he told them 
that he had been to the Meiji College at Shirokané, in Shiba 
Ward, Tokyo. They told him that they had attended the 
Doshisha University.* They both had long beards. Ejichi asked 
them if they had come there to preach Christianity, and they told 
him that they had come to preach in the open air, Asked where 
they were going to preach, they told him that they were going to 
preach in the grounds of the temple. ‘“‘What a strange kind of 
Christianity!”’ he thought, as he left the temple. 

While thinking how vigorous the worship of Kant must be 
in that district; he walked through the village and saw Kant and 
Norinaga Motoori bathing at a bathhouse. Motoori was scrub- 
bing Immanuel Kant’s back and saying, “Your study of Japanese 
history is quite an unprecedented success. My work on the 
Kojiki was only a trifle. You’ve only published one volume yet, 
but when it’s all out it will arouse a revolution,” and he poured 
some water over Kant’s back. Kant only smiled. ‘No, really,” 
Motoori went on, “I was quite overcome by your perspicacity. 
My work is lacking in critical ability and is useless.” 

Eiichi heard and saw all sorts of interesting things. In the 
next village was a shop where they sold textbooks for the elemen- 
tary schools. The name of the reading book was “Kant,” and 
when he looked inside he found it contained anecdotes about Kant 
when he was small, just like a story book. He was astonished 
that there should be such a craze for Kant and finally asked the 
name of the village. He was told that it was “Kotsubo,” and 
that while it was certainly once covered by the sea, it was now a 
sandy waste. “This was the explanation given him, and Eiichi 
wondered if it was in the neighbourhood of Kojima in Okayama 
county. ‘Then he asked what was the name of the Temple 
where Kant was worshipped, and they told him Shingonshu. 

There his dream ended, and he woke up to the realisation that 
Kant was a German after all. 

Strangely enough, from that moment Eiichi began to recover, 
and soon he was able to amuse himself by reading the Psalms. 
He was in bed for three weeks altogether, every day more and 
more determined that he would go and live in the slums at 
Shinkawa. ‘The first time that he was able to walk a little he 


* A Christian University in Kyoto. 


AT DEATH’S DOOR 263: 


went one afternoon to call on Ueki, but Ueki was absent, having: 
gone out as a scavenger, he was told by Mr. Masuda, with whom 
Ueki lived. Just as Eiichi was walking out of the alley, a child 
of five, who had been quarrelling with a bigger boy who was 
running after him, came flying along. Just when he got to the 
entrance of the alley, however, he fell flat on the ground with 
a thud, hitting his forehead on the stones and making it bleed. 
The sight of the blood made the youngster howl. E1ichi hastened 
up and, lifting the boy, found that he had cut his forehead a 
little. Pulling out his handkerchief, Etichi staunched the bleed- 
ing while he asked the boy where he lived. ‘There, there,” said 
the boy, and he pointed with his finger to a house with a fine 
gate. Ejichi knew by this that the boy was the child of Mizuta, 
the chief man of the district. 

Eiichi went with the boy to the house to announce the acci- 
dent, and found inside about half a dozen young fellows, of 
ferocious appearance, engaged in gambling. From the back a 
beautiful young woman came out and received the child. 

“Bonbon,” she said, “you will quarrel with the other children 
and then they always make you cry,” and she bowed to Eiichi. 

“T heard the sound of boots and wondered who it was.” 

“T thought it was a policeman.” 

“Oh, it’s the Christian teacher,—him that was preaching at the 
crossing.” 

““He’s a kind 7un.” 

‘The young men were all speaking at once. 

Seizing the opportunity Eiichi became very friendly with 
Mizuta and his family, so that at last, on the evening of the 
24th of December, he became the tenant of a house owned by 
Mizuta. 

Eiichi continued to go to the office of the insurance company 
in the daytime, and in the evening he engaged in literary work 
and in preaching. He was not quite well, but there was nothing 
to worry about. Every afternoon he had an attack of fever at 
four o’clock, but he got accustomed to it and was unconcerned. 
He determined that if his life was to be short,—if he was to live 
only one or two, or, at most perhaps, three years,—if he had to 
die within three years, he would use all his strength to live a 
thoroughly good life. He was strongly inclined to the Christian 
Socialism of Toynbee, Frederick Maurice and Charles Kingsley. 


204 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“The materialistic principles of Marx were insufficient. At the 
‘same time he was in opposition to the teaching of the gospel of 
dove by the present-day church apart from material and economic 
questions. He was of the opinion that the gospel of love must 
not be separated from material matters;—that Love and the 
Flesh and the Soul were one,—that that which willed extension 
in time was the Soul, and that which willed extension in space 
was the Flesh. All things were meaningless unless they took the 
form of the Flesh. If God was not symbolised in the Flesh, 
then to him He was incomprehensible. ‘The Logos, the Incar- 
nation, was the mystery of religion. Chogyu Takayama’s 
maxim, that we must, by all means, transcend modern times, he 
thought should read that we must incarnate ourselves for modern 
times. When he thought of the cry of the revolutionists in 
Russia—‘v narod” (“Among the people”), and of Toynbee’s 
University settlements among the poor, he felt that he must cer- 
tainly go and live in the slums. Then, living among the poor, 
if there came an opportunity for him to do something for the 
Labour movement and to start Labour Unions, he would cer- 
tainly seize it. 

Pastor ‘I’. of the Gospel Mission Hall had lately lent him a 
copy of John Wesley’s diary, in which he had read how Wesley, 
in spite of his being consumptive, had engaged in astonishingly 
large enterprises. He was greatly impressed when he read how 
Wesley, when crossing the Atlantic in a sailing-ship, saw how 
the Pietists, in spite of they themselves being so sick that they 
were vomiting blood, nursed the others on the ship. This made 
him all the more determined to go and live in the slums and defy 
death. At that time Naturalism was at the height of popularity 
in literary circles and he heard that many young men belonging 
to the church had been led astray by it. 

Ueki was by this time employed by the Municipality as a 
scavenger and earned sixty sen a day. He was not such a bad 
man as Eiichi had at first thought, and he helped Eiichi in his 
desire to live in the slums. He told Eiichi where there was an 
empty house and went with him to look at it. It was in Kitahon- 
machi. You went along Odori to the west, and it was the second 
house in a long row of ten houses, in the first alley you came to. 
‘There were two rooms, the front one nine feet by six feet and 


AT DEATH’S DOOR 265 


the back one six feet square. From what Ueki told him, at 
the end of the preceding year some one had been murdered in 
the house and the people in the neighbourhood said that his ghost 
walked. As no one would therefore go to live there the house 
had remained empty. This explanation greatly excited Ejichi’s 
curiosity. 

Enichi went to Mizuta, who was the landlord, and told him 
that he wanted to rent the house, and as Mizuta had become very 
friendly with Eiichi since the accident to his child, he immedi- 
ately consented. ‘The rent was seven sen a day, which came to 
two yen ten sen a month, but Mizuta reduced the rent to two 
yen as Eiichi took the house by the month. ‘This was at the 
beginning of December. Eiichi busied himself with the work 
of removal, but as the insurance company was very busy just 
then, it was not till Christmas Eve that he could complete his 
arrangements, 

So, on Christmas Eve, the 24th of December, when all the 
churches were very busy thinking of nothing but Christmas, at 
two o'clock in the afternoon, Eiichi, with Ueki to help him, 
moved into his new house. Eiichi, dressed in a cotton kimono, 
himself pulled the handcart containing his goods from Kajiya- 
machi to Shinkawa. ‘The handcart was laden with quilts, a 
wicker trunk containing his clothes, another filled with books, 
and a bamboo bookshelf. Ueki, in the meantime, was sweeping 
out the house to make it ready for the mats to be put in. Then 
they went together to buy mats. Eiichi found that he had not 
enough money to buy five new mats, so they bought three old 
mats at one yen twenty sen each, which they put down in the 
front room. ‘Then, as there were no screens, they went out and 
bought some old ones. As they were already covered with paper, 
there was no trouble about that. ‘They put the screens in at 
once, and that night, as he had no lamp, Eiichi spread the quilt 
and went to bed in the dark. 

The next morning, before Eiichi was up, Ueki came and 
asked him if he would let him live there, giving many reasons 
for the request. Eiichi, however, felt that he could not trust 
Ueki, and therefore he did not make any definite reply. Then, 
in about half an hour, there came Hayashi, a gambler, and 
Tomita, a tall man, said to be the leader of Mizuta’s gang. 


266 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Hayashi asked if Eiichi would not let him come and live in the 
next room, and Tomita asked if Eiichi would not accommodate 
a follower of his named Uchiyama. 

‘“‘Business is bad,”’ he said, “and he ain’t got the money to stop 
at a doss house. He drinks all the time, but he says that when 
he becomes converted to your persuasion he’ll be very careful.” 

Ejichi was astonished. Why were all these people, whom he 
had not seen and did not know, wanting to come and live with 
him? 

Then Hayashi suddenly withdrew his own request and backed 
up Tomita in asking Eiichi to take in Uchiyama. Ueki also 
added his appeal that Eiichi would take Uchiyama into his house, 


and in the face of the appeal from the three men Eiichi felt _ 


helpless. . 

“Pll decide to-night when I see him,” he said. 

“Ueki,” said Tomita, “you go to the Awaya [the name of a 
common lodging-house] and call Kyogashima.” 

Uchiyama was known as Kyogashima, from the name of his 
boss, a navvy. In the slums all the followers answer to the name 
of the boss. 

“Right you are,” he said, and hastened off. 

After he had gone Tomita spoke to Hayashi about him. 

“That chap’s a rascal,” he said. “He set fire to a house in 
Rokken-michi. He’s only come out of prison about three months 
ago. Don’t you be too familiar with him, Mister Niimi, or 
you’ll get into serious trouble.” 

“Ay, he’s a bad lot,” ‘chimed in Hayashi. 

“Really?” said Eiichi. 

Tomita had the air of a boss. He was a tall man with some- 
thing evil in his looks. He was neatly dressed, however. 
Hayashi was dressed in a blue, tight-sleeved kimono and wore an 
apron. He had a round, clever face. 

“Cold, ain’t it, without any fire,” he said, and, sitting himself 
down on the sill, he struck a match and lit a cigarette. 

“Tomita,” he said, “you’ve been behaving very bad lately. 
What have you done with Kuma’s missus? Are you still going 
with her? Mister Niimi, you can’t trust this chap any more 
than you can Ueki. He’s an awful bad one. He’s got a habit 
of going after other men’s missuses.” 

“You shut up, Hayashi. (You’ve said enough,” said Tomita. 


AT DEATH’S DOOR 267 


“Yes, but ain’t Kuma to be pitied? How many other men’s 
missuses have you had, Tomita?” 

Tomita was standing in the small yard with his hands rolled 
up in his sleeves. 

“Eleven,” he said. 

“Ain’t he a bad fellow, Mister Niimi?” said Hayashi. ‘He’s 
taken eleven missuses away from their husbands. Where are 
they?” 

“Well, there’s five across the river, and three in Shinkawa, 
and two in Tsutsui, and one in Hyogo. But I’m only intimate 
with five of em now.” 

“Ts Toku among ’em?” 

“What difference does it make whether she is or ain’t?” 

“D’you think it’s fun taking another man’s missus?” 

“T don’t take em; they come of themselves, so what am I 
to do?” 

“No, no, that ain’t so. Tomita, have you got any girls at your 
place now?” 

“What d’you want to talk about ’em for before another 
person, and the first time I seen him too,—spoiling my reputa- 
ELON oasis | 

“Mister Niimi,” said Hayashi, “this man’s a bad one. He’s 
got eleven or twelve girls at his place and he lives on ’em.” 

“Well, I wouldn’t send my wife out on the streets as you do, 
Hayashi, so there. There ain’t no bad girls at my place any 
longer.” 

“I don’t live by taking people’s daughters and turning ’em 
into bad girls, and I can’t live without sending my missus out 
on the streets. What have you done with Tamé? Is she with 
you still?” 

“She’s at home.” 

“Ts she still going out on the streets?” 

a eee 

“There vou are. What did I say? What about Sada?” 

“She’s there.” 

**And Sono?” 

“She’s gone back to Osaka.” 

“She'll come back. She looked a regular bad one. What 
about Shika?” 

“‘She’s there.” 


268 BEFORE THE DAWN 


*“‘Are there any more?” 

“There’s one more. ... I tell ’em I can’t let ’em live up- 
stairs, but if there’s one all the others come along and what am 
I to do?” 

Eiichi listened to their conversation in astonishment. He had 
entered an unknown world with which he had to get acquainted. 

‘““Tomita’s a bad fellow, Mister Niimi,” said Hayashi. “He 
takes other men’s missuses away from ’em. He nearly got him- 
self killed doing it, eh, Tomita?” | 

“Tt was a narrow squeak. It hurts still in the cold weather,” 
and ‘Tomita pulled back his kimono and, taking off a white 
bandage, showed a sword wound, a foot long, from the top to 
the bottom of his stomach. ‘Then he began to tell how he got 
it, but in the middle Ueki came back with a round-headed man 
of about fifty, who was wearing a workman’s coat with his 
master’s trade-mark on the back. Enchi got up and looked at 
Uchiyama. He remembered having seen him before, standing 
at the door of the Awaya. 

As soon as ‘Tomita saw him he hailed him. 

““Kyogashima,” he said, “I’ve asked for you to come and stop 
here to-night, so you can come here to sleep and won’t want the 
doss-house money.” 

SABE ote Welk now??? 

Uchiyama appeared to have bad eyes as he was continually 
blinking. He was evidently a man of few words as all he said 
was “Ah! ... Well, now.” 

““There, think of him as a young disciple and let him stay,” 
said ‘Tomita to Eiichi. 

Eiichi said nothing definite in reply, but the others had quite 
made up their minds. 

“Ain't Christianity a religion for helping people?” they said. 
“If you don’t help such a pitiable creature as Kyogashima then 
it’s all a lie. He’s such a pitiable fellow. He stands at the door 
of the Awaya all day like that, in straw sandals, and never 
moves. Really, he’s such a strange fellow. Uchiyama, you ask 
if you can come and sleep here from to-night.” 

“Ah! Ah!” was all that Uchiyama could say. Uchiyama 
having been brought there and thrust upon him, Etichi ended by 
weakening to the application. 

Eiichi washed his face at the tap, put on his foreign clothes, 


AT DEATH’S DOOR 269 


and went off to the insurance office. Tomita, Hayashi, Ueki and 
Uchiyama went away slowly together. 

When Eiichi got back from the office about four o’clock Uchi- 
yama was asleep under the coverlet, still dressed in his work- 
man’s coat. Elichi thought he had come to live in a strange 
place. 

He went to attend the Christmas service at the meeting-house 
in Mizuki-dori, and when he got back again he found Uchiyama 
waiting for him. 

“There wasn’t a light, so I went and got a lamp at Tomita’s,” 
he said. His face was flushed with drink. 

That night Eiichi crawled under the coverlet and slept with 
Uchiyama. The next morning he noticed that the skin on the 
back of Uchiyama’s hands was festering and bleeding. 


CHAPTER XXXIII 


Blackmail 
RMRKRRMRRHKHKKRRKRAR 


Te next day Dr. Williams sent two baskets of toys by 


a jinrikishaman, stating that he had received them from 

the Sunday School of a foreign church, and early on the 
morning of the 27th of December Eiichi began to distribute the 
toys among the children in the slums. Some two or three hun- 
dred children flocked to Eiichi’s house, and, when they heard 
of it, Hayashi, Ueki, and Tomita also came. 

Tomita impudently picked out the toys he liked and asked 
Eiichi to give them to him for his own child, whereupon Hayashi 
and Ueki followed his example. ‘Then some fifteen or sixteen 
men and women came and, importuned Etichi for toys, among 
them a dirty woman whom he had seen begging at Sannomiya. 
She was very obstinate in her demand for some of the toys and 
Eiichi was thrown into great perplexity as to how to distribute 
them. Finally he gave all that were left to the children and 
then fled to his office. 

In the evening he hired a large room at the Awaya and held 
a Christmas party in the slums with the help of Dr. Williams’ 
contribution. ‘There he distributed cake and towels among all the 
hundred poor people in the lodging-house. 

Since he had come to live with Eiichi, Uchiyama had scarcely — 
eaten anything, but had continued to sleep all the time. When 
Eiichi inquired he found that Uchiyama had not eaten anything | 
at all on the 26th of December and on the 27th had only had 
some breakfast with ten sen that Tomita gave him. Uchiyama 
was apparently labouring under the delusion that as he had be- — 
come the disciple of a Christian he would receive his food. 
Eiichi decided that he must feed Uchiyama, who was a good- 
hearted and kindly fellow, and to whose presence in the house 
he had no objection, but he found some inconvenience in doing 
this. The truth was that Eiichi never ate any breakfast, and at 

0 


BLACKMAIL 271 


noon and in the evening went to a macaroni shop to get his 
meals. However, pitying Uchiyama, he immediately bought 
some rice and a cooking-pot and stove, and they both ate their 
meals together. 

On the evening of the 28th of December, when Eiichi was 
preaching in the street, a poverty-stricken man of about forty- 
five, named Izu, who was suffering from rheumatism and whom 
he had met the evening before at the Awaya, came to him. 

“It was very good of you to take Kyogashima in,” he said. 
“Can’t you take me in too? What do you think?” 

Eiichi said he had no quilts, whereupon the man said that he 
would bring his own quilt. Eiichi then said that he had no 
mats, whereupon the man said that he would bring a straw mat, 
and finally, as he had no other excuse to offer, Eiichi agreed. 
‘The man inquired whether he could come that evening, to which 
Eiichi also assented, whereupon the man disappeared in the dark, 
dragging his heavy legs along dejectedly. 

Eiichi had finished his preaching and was returning home when 
he heard a voice behind him calling “Master! Master!” He 
looked round and found it was a man of about fifty who had 
the air of a lumper. He was very drunk and kept repeating 
“Master! Master! I’ve got something to ask you, Ihave... 
Something about Yuki.” 

Eiichi could not imagine what it was about. 

“Tm the miserable fellow that lives next door to you— 
Yoshida’s my name. I want you to... I felt so bad Dve just 
had a drop. Master, I want you to. . .” 

The man followed Eiichi home and went into the house next 
door. There was no lamp in the house, only a lantern, and 
there were no mats on the floor. Apparently they slept on the 
bare boards on rice-sacks. There was a small dark thing in the 
corner, which presumably was Yoshida’s daughter Yuki. She 
was sleeping in her kimono without any covering. 

“Hi, Yuki! ‘Yuki!’ shouted the man. “Get up and go and 
buy some liquor.” 

The misery was too great for Eiichi to bear. He went into 
his own house without speaking and found that Izu had already 
come and had put a straw mat in the next room, on which he 
was sleeping. Uchiyama, who had nothing else to do, had been 
sleeping since noon under Eiichi’s warm coverlet. 


272, BEFORE THE DAWN 


Eiichi asked Izu where he had got his quilt and was told that 
he had hired it for one night for two sen. Looking at it by 
the light of the lamp Eiichi saw that written all over it, thou- 
sands of times, and forming a sort of pattern, were the words 
“Hired quilts must not be pawned.” Eiichi understood the sig- 
nificance of this. Izu’s occupation, he found on inquiry, was 
going about picking up waste rope. , 

Eiichi had caught the itch from Uchiyama and that night he 
was not able to get much sleep. Uchiyama, also, was continually 
scratching himself. “Then about ten o’clock a tremendous quarrel 
began at a house opposite, where there lived a couple with the 
strange name of Hiyama. Listening to what it was about Enichi 
found that a bully had come from Marusan, a usurer living down 
the street, to collect some money that had been lent at high in- 
terest. Eiichi hastened over the road to inquire what. it was 
all about, and finding it was only a matter of fifty sen, paid 
the amount, whereupon Hiyama was so grateful that he wor- 
shipped Eiichi as a saint. | 

The next morning Ueki came early, and complaining that 
business was very bad, asked for the loan of another five yen, as 
he wanted to start again to sell rice-cakes on the shore in the 
spring. Eiichi had been imposed upon before by Ueki, however, 
and refused. ; 

“Oh, you won’t, won’t you?” said Ueki. “Well, Ive got 
my own notion about that and Pve got something here that will 
make you,” and he pulled out a short sword and showed it to 
Eiichi, with a strange expression on his face. Hayashi then 
appeared on the scene. 

“Ts me that must have some money,” he said, and then he 
turned on Ueki. ‘What are you doing here?” he said. “I won’t 
have you maundering round here.” 

At this rebuke Ueki for some reason hung his head. 

“Get out! Get out!” said Hayashi, and Ueki went away 
dejectedly. 

After this Hayashi imperatively demanded ten yen and began 
to look for Eiichi’s purse. Then he also pulled out a short sword 
from his bosom and showed it to Eiichi, whereupon ‘Tomita ap- 
peared on the scene. 

“What ye doing here with that bit of steel?” said Tomita. 
“Get out! Get out!” 


BLACKMAIL 273 


When he had silenced Hayashi, Tomita demanded a loan of 
thirty yen and produced a pistol. 

Eiichi found himself the sport of a band of cutthroats, but 
he was not at all afraid of their swords and pistol. On the 
contrary they rather amused him; it was for such things as this 
that he had corne to live in the slums. He did not speak, how- 
ever, as he knew that they would take advantage of him if he 
did. 

Tomita and Hayashi then began to quarrel with each other 
and Uchiyama got up to settle the quarrel. Ejichi also got up 
quietly and went to the tap to wash his face. When he got 
back the two had gone away together. 

Uchiyama good-naturedly told Eiichi all about the ways of 
the blackmailer. 

“They provoke a quarrel and then pretend to want to put it 
right,—that’s the blackmailer. Don’t you let ’em make you 
angry. . . . But that Tomita,—he’s a violent one. He'll come 
again to-night, you see. You'd better be out of the way, master. 
As the day after to-morrow’s the end of the year, most likely 
he’s in need of some money.” 

That evening, as they expected, Tomita appeared again. He 
arrived at seven o’clock, when Eiichi was about to go out to pay 
some visits in the slums. 

“You insolent brat,” he said, and gave Eiichi two or three 
blows on the face that sent him reeling. What it was all about 
Eiichi did not know, but he was given to understand that it was 
considered insolence on his part not to accede to the demands of 
Tomita while he resided in the domain of Tomita’s boss. 

Tomita drew a short dagger from his bosom—a dreadful 
weapon to look at—and yelled, “Tll kill you.” But Eiichi 
was not afraid. The expectation of death was already upon 
him and he made no attempt to avoid the onslaught. Nor, as an 
adherent to the principle of absolute non-resistance, did he make 
any attempt to defend himself. 

Tomita flourished his dagger, and Uchiyama, who was warm- 
ing himself by the stove, flew to the scene. 

“Here, what’s it all about?” he said. ‘There ain’t no need 
to get in such a fury, is there?” and he wrenched the dagger out 
of ‘Tomita’s hand. 

Tomita, catching sight of the stove, bounded into the room 


274 BEFORE THE DAWN 


and made as if to throw it at Eiichi, who was standing in the 
yard, but suddenly changing his mind, he threw it down on the 
mats. ‘The heap of burning charcoal was scattered all over the 
room, and Uchiyama had to jump back again and pick it up. 
While he was doing this Eiichi fled by the back gate and went 
down to the shore to pray. 

He returned about eleven o’clock to find that one of the 
screens had been broken to pieces. He went to bed without say- 
ing anything, although he thought what a rough fellow Tomita 
was. 

On the 30th of December, Tomita came to kick up a row 
both in the morning and evening, and finally Uchiyama advised _ 
Eiichi to give him some twenty yen or so. “It’s better to do 
that than to get hurt,” he said. | 

Eiichi was of the same opinion, and therefore he gave 
Tomita twenty yen out of his monthly salary, which was only 
twenty-five yen, and the small New Year present he had re- 
ceived from the insurance company. Ueki also was not to be put 
off when he learnt that Eiichi had some money, and finally he 
walked off with another five yen. After Eiichi had bought mats 
and screens for the back room he had not a farthing left out of 
the small amount of salary he had saved. 

Such was the dark and miserable end of the year 1909 which 
Eiichi spent in the slums. He had only one consolation, and 
that was that he had made friends even though he had only 
resided there four days. One of these, of course, was the old — 
man Uchiyama, and another Izu. ‘There were others, however, 
who looked up to him and called him “Teacher,” and they were — 
the children of the slums. The slum children were very fond 
of Eiichi and Eiichi was very fond of them. 

Every afternoon Jinko, Toraichi, Hanaé, Kazu and Kumazo 
impatiently waited for Eiichi’s return at four o’clock. In the 
morning they came and played in front of Eiichi’s house in the 
narrow alley, waiting until he returned. Then at four o’clock, 
when they saw Eiichi appear, they rushed along the alley to wel-— 
come him. “Teacher, have you got any toys to-day?” was their 
first greeting. Eiichi would stroke Jinko’s head and put his” 
hands on the heads of Toraichi and Hanaé and the others in 
turn. ‘Then the children, all hanging onto “‘teacher’s” coat- 
tails, would accompany him to his house. 


BLACKMAIL 275 


Besides these there was Eiichi’s first convert. At the slum 
Christmas party he had given at the Awaya on the 27th of 
December there was a man of nearly forty who could not stand, 
but was carried there by his wife on her back. He lived in a 
small room in Azuma-dori. From Eiichi’s inquiries it appeared 
that the man had been unable to stand for the last four months 
owing to rheumatism. On the evening of the 28th of Decem- 
ber, the man’s wife, an amiable-looking woman, came to Eiichi. 

“Master,” she said, “I hope you’ll excuse me, but won’t you 
say a Christian prayer for us?” 

Eiichi went at once and prayed for the man’s recovery. Then 
on the morning of the 30th of December, when Eiichi was 
setting out to attend office for the last time that year, he saw 
Deguchi, the man who could not stand, coming along the alley 
leaning on a long bamboo pole. His hair was all standing on 
end, like that of Goemon Ishikawa,* the famous robber, and his 
face was wan,—a figure typical of the slums. 

Deguchi said that from the time that Eiichi had prayed for 
him he had begun to get the use of his legs back and he had 
come to thank Eiichi. From that time Deguchi became a propa- 
gandist of Christianity in the slums. 

On the Ist of January, 1910, which happened to be a Sunday, 
Eiichi held his first evening service in his small room, and the 
news being passed round, Deguchi came with six or seven of his 
friends, so that the small room was full. There was Ito, the 
rope-picker, Ishino, the well-cleaner, and his wife, an old pipe 
mender, and an old rag-picker. Adding to these Izu and Uchi- 
yama, the evening service was a pleasurable one. 

Eiichi felt very happy. He spoke as simply as he could, and 
each said a prayer before they went. Some of them mixed up 
prayers and thanksgiving and submitted humble thanks to be 
cured of their ills. 

Eiichi did not understand how it was that he had been able 
to spread Christianity so quickly, but after the service he under- 
stood from Deguchi why it was. It was because Deguchi had 
gone about telling every cne. ‘The life in the slums fired 
Eiichi’s youthful ardour. 


* Lived at the end of the 16th century. He and his son were executed 
by being boiled in oil in the dry bed of a river at Kyoto. 


CHAPTER XXXIV 
Baby-Killing 
KRRRRR MMMM MMR KKK 


: ARLY on the morning of the 2nd of January Ueki came 
RK bringing a man named Marui. (Ueki had. a habit of 
coming early so as to catch Eiichi still in bed.) Marui 
earned his living as a carter for a mat-factory. He stated that 
his sister had been sent to prison for gambling and that as the 
baby she had adopted had died the previous night during her 
absence, and he had no money to pay for the funeral, he had 
come to ask Eiichi if he would not give him some. Eiichi im- 
mediately assented and went with the man to his house. Marui 
and his family of six lived in a room nine feet by six in Azuma- 
dori, the other room in the house, of six feet square, being oc- 
cupied by his sister and her two children. ‘The adopted child 
that had died was only three months old and, of course, was not 
yet weaned. ‘They had no money to buy milk, however, and 
as they had to feed it on rice-gruel and rice-water it had died. 
The body was laid on a dirty hired quilt and was covered with 
the soiled woollen kimono that had been given with the baby. 
Eiichi lifted the kimono and looked at the baby’s face. ‘The 
sight of it filled him with inexpressible horror. Its eyes were 
sunk in its head and bloodshot, its cheeks fallen in, and its hands 
dried up like leaves on a withered bough. Eiichi inquired into 
the circumstances and learnt that the man’s sister had been 
dazzled by the offer of five yen if she would adopt the baby, and 
had taken the money, since she was very poor, although she 
knew it meant the murder of the child. 
Eiichi went back to his house and took out his winter kimono 


and mantle from the wicker trunk. ‘These he took to the pawn- 


broker, getting six yen thirty sen for them, five yen of which he 


handed to Marui. Marui consulted with Ueki and then went to — 


“Tabero” to ask him to arrange the funeral. ‘“Tabero,” who 
276 


BABY-KILLING 277 


up to six months ago had been living with Yoshida’s “missus,” 
a woman called “Inu,” lived opposite to Eiichi. ‘The occupation 
of “Tabero,” who was also called “Oitabero,” was to arrange 
funerals for those who were not able to do it themselves. His 
work consisted in placing the body in an old tobacco packing-case 
or orange-box, hoisting it on his shoulder and carrying it to the 
crematorium at Kasugano. 

That day, towards evening, “Tabero” put the body of the 
baby in an orange-box and set off with it from Marui’s house. 

Eiichi felt very depressed at the sight. He was overcome with 
aversion at the crimes of the slums and in his despair he felt 
inclined to curse God. He felt that God was not Love, but 
the Lord of Darkness, Despair, Death and Poverty. 

But the unkind Creator, who had thus given Eiichi a glimpse 
of death, did not stop there. On the morning of the 5th of 
January, Ishino, the well-cleaner, who had attended the New 
Year service, came and asked him to bury his baby, who had 
died. Eiichi also complied with this request. He went to Ishino’s 
house, which was in Azuma-dori and was rented from Fujimoto, 
and found Ishino and his wife sitting there listlessly. He learnt 
very soon that the baby that had died was an adopted child. 

“This is the child,” said Ishino, and he took out of the corner 
of the room the body of a child still smaller than that at Marui’s 
house. It was rolled up in three cushions, tied together with a 
soft sash, and looked like a doll. Its eyes were not sunken like 
those of Marui’s child, but its face was livid and its head was 
covered with scabs. It was an ugly baby, and Eiichi felt that 
its ugliness had prevented much interest in its rearing. 

It was necessary to get a certificate of the cause of death and 
Eiichi hastened to call a doctor named Tazawa who lived near. 
The spectacled Tazawa, whether through laziness or because the 
house was very dirty, did not go in, but stood in the yard. 

“Let’s have a look at the child,” he said, and Ishino showed it 
to him as he had shown it to Eiichi. 

“Oh, this is it, eh? Malnutrition,—I see, I see,” and he went 
away without trying to find out if there were any signs of life 
or even touching the body. Eiichi followed him. 

“Those people, you know,” said the doctor, “they live on 
adopted children. There’s lots of them do it in this neighbour- 
hood and it gives me a great deal of trouble.” 


278 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Eiichi got the death certificate and called in at Deguchi’s on 
his way back. ‘There he heard some bad tales about Ishino. 

“That’s the third time Ishino’s done that,” said Deguchi. 
“He adopts a child and kills it, adopts a child and kills it, and 
then each time he moves because he’s too ashamed to stop in the 
neighbourhood. He’ll be punished for his sins yet. His missus 
is so lazy that she has to do this,” and Deguchi made an indecent 
sign with his fingers. “He sends his wife on the streets every 
night and although he’s so old he acts as pimp for her. ‘That’s 
the way he lives. He came here this morning and said he’d no 
money for the funeral and would I ask the Christian teacher. 
He’ll be punished for his sins. When he adopts a child he gets 
five or ten yen and his eyes are dazzled by the sight of such big 
money. ‘Then when the child dies he ain’t got no money for the 
funeral and he goes round begging it in the neighbourhood like 
a beast. I told him I couldn’t do it, but then you’ve come here 
to help the poor and live in this terrible Shinkawa, and if you 
can help him please do so. Tl talk to him well and tell him 
he’ll have to turn over a new leaf.” 

Deguchi went on repeating the same thing over and over 
again, but Etichi understood from him what Ishino’s circum- 
stances were and went again to Ishino’s house, where he told 
him that he would bring the money for the funeral afterwards. 

Uchiyama understood Eiichi’s feelings in the matter. “I’ll go 
to the pawnbroker’s for you,” he said, and went off with two of 
Ejichi’s kimonos. Five yen was lent on them and Eiichi took the 
money at once to Ishino’s house. ‘There were only left in 
Eiichi’s wicker trunk five kimonos, one of which was ragged. 
Exichi faced each new trial as it arose with greater fortitude, 
although they made his heart throb. 

When he got back from the office the coffin had not yet been 
removed from Ishino’s house, as Ishino wished Eiichi to hold a 
Christian funeral service and they were waiting for him to 
return. ‘There, for the first time in his life, in that small room 
in the slums, Eiichi conducted a Christian funeral service. He 
did not preach any sermon, however. All he said was that those 
were happier who quitted this sinful world and, like that baby, 
flew to Heaven. 

On the conclusion of the service Ishino himself shouldered the 
coffin and took it to Kasugano. Eiichi followed in silence. The 


BABY-KILLING 279 


early winter sun was already sinking behind Mount Tekkai at 
Suma when Eiichi stood before the crematorium at Kasugano. 
He hid his face from Ishino and wept. ‘The lights of Kobé 
shone brilliantly. The crematory cart rattled as the man placed 
the coffin on it. 


CHAPTER XXXV 


Misery in the Slums 


RM RRRRRARRRRRARR 


os HY am I destined to all this suffering?” thought 
\ \) Eiichi as he returned from the brightness of Moto- 
machi to the dimness of Shinkawa. ‘“‘Am I like 
Jeremiah, destined to tears? Iam tired of weeping over my own 
sorrows; now I must weep over the sorrows of others. I have 
made a mistake. Such persons as I am, however much agony 
they suffer, or however much effort they put forth, are useless. 
The pestilence has entered into the slums. It has attacked the — 
young girls like a snake,—a snake tattooed on the back. Tomé, 
the prostitute, died the day before yesterday. Yesterday her 
father was sent to the infectious diseases hospital. “This morn- 
ing, Kawamata, the boatman, was attacked by the same disease. 
Terrible! Terrible! The care of the sufferers from the pesti- 
lence, the protection of the erring sheep, has fallen on you, 
Eiichi Niimi, you miserable man! You also will catch the disease 
and die quickly, and then you will be freed from the sufferings 
of the world.” 

With money it would be possible to bring relief, but with no 
money, no food,—with himself and his fellow lodger compelled 
to eke out their means by two meals a day, and those only of 
gruel and pickled plums, which they had to divide between them, ~ 
——what an unhappy creature he was to be compelled to make 
money his ideal. In this world of beautiful women, silk dresses, — 
and fine music, he alone dreamed of social reconstruction, rotted — 
in the slums, and, weeping, directed funerals. Why was it? 
Society was all astray, but it was better not to say so; better to 
wait for a time of great social upheaval. ‘Till then he would 
console the needy as far as was in his power. He would wait 


for the new day,—for the birth of the new Christian morality 
280 ' 


MISERY IN THE SLUMS 281 


which would take the place of the rotten morality of the capi- 
talists of to-day. The road to the Crucifixion was along the 
alleys of the slums. 

So he thought as he took his accustomed way across Higurashi 
Bridge. He was struck with the poetical allusion in the name 
of the bridge—the “hand to mouth” bridge, symbolical of the 
lives of the poor workers. 

On the 8th of January, which was a Sunday, he held his first 
Sunday School in his small room. ‘There were seventy children 
present, and as they all made a noise it was impossible to make 
oneself heard or do anything. But at any rate it gave all the 
children in Shinkawa an opportunity of knowing Eiichi. 

He went to the morning service at the Hyogo meeting-house, 
and after the service Dr. Williams told him that in order to assist 
his evangelical work in the slums, he would be allowed twenty 
yen a month. Dr. Williams also encouraged him in his work. 
Eiichi accepted the offer with thanks. 

‘That afternoon two sisters belonging to the Women’s Reform 
Society came to see him, and after examining his house went 
away crying. Ejichi thought that if the scene made them cry, 
why did they not come to live there also. 

Ueki continued to threaten him for money. In the middle 
of a prayer meeting, when Eiichi was praying that the hearts 
of those present might be inclined to love their enemies, Ueki 
broke in. 

“Damned rot,” he said. “I suppose you mean I’m the enemy. 
If there’s a God that answers prayers, then pray that the fire in 
this stove won’t burn anything when I throw it about,” and he 
upset the stove that was in the middle of the room. 

Ito and Ishino began hurriedly putting the burning charcoal 
back into the stove. 

“There you are,” reviled Ueki. ‘You and your God! Ain’t 
the fire still burning?” 

Then, after the prayer meeting, when they had all gone, 
Ueki, who was drunk, began to go through the military drill in 
his bare feet in the lane outside, under the beams of the cold, 
wintry moon. } 

“Eyes front! *Tention! Right wheel, turn! As you were, 
turn! Back to the path of virtue, turn!” he kept shouting. 

Then Yoshida, who had also returned drunk, shouted from the 


282 BEFORE THE DAWN 


sack in which he was sleeping, ‘Shut up, you beast. Don’t make 
such a noise,” and he began howling like a wolf. 

This did not make Ueki angry; it was only against Eiichi 
that he used abusive language. He had meant to get some money 
from Eiichi that day, and he had been hunting for him at the 
transport agency’s office in Hyogo, at the meeting-house in 
Mizuki-dori, and at the Ikuta church. | 
' Finally Ucki entered the house and got Kyogashima to apolo- 
gise for him to Ejichi. Ueki seized the skirt of his own kimono 
in his teeth and whined an apology also, ending up by asking 
Eiichi to put him up for the night. Eiichi told him to go and 
wash his feet, whereupon he said that he would sober himself by 
pouring cold water from the tap over his body. At last he came 
creeping back and snuggled his shivering body up to Eiichi’s. 

At other times, when he had no money, Ueki would pursue 
Eiichi with a dagger. Eiichi would try to hide himself, where- 
upon Ueki, who knew that Eiichi would never report the matter 
to the police, became even more threatening. Seizing a Bible, he 
would commence cutting it to pieces, repeating all the time, 
“This is what I’m going to do to you, you Niimi.” 

Eiichi knew, however, that Ueki would not commit a crime, 
and although he got out of his way, he was not afraid of his 
weapon. He was beginning gradually to understand the methods 
and disposition of the evil-minded and therefore he had no fear. 

In the midst of this confusion there arrived a sick man named 
Chukichi Shibata, who, having no money to pay for his lodging, 
had been directed to Ejichi’s by the people at the Awaya. He 
said he was a weaver at Osaka, twenty-eight years of age, born 
at Kobé. His real father was dead, but he had an adopted 
father who was head of the second fire-brigade in Hyogo. He 
had sunk very low through dissipation, but did not want to 
return home. 

Ejichi remembered how in the summer, two years before, 
when he was living a hard life at the dockers’ lodging-house, 
the place was kept by Shibata’s father, and he therefore at once 
decided to assist the man. His house was very small, however, — 
and moreover, when he got a doctor to examine the man, it was — 
found that he was suffering from intestinal tuberculosis. Within 
two weeks the man was unable to stand and his internal organs — 
seemed to be rotting. In truth he smelt horribly. Eiichi and 


MISERY IN THE SLUMS 283 


Uchiyama had to nurse him. ‘Taking pity on Izu they got him 
to remove to the next room, and the room six feet square became 
the sick room. 

Eiichi, however, found the house too small and decided that 
he would have to take another. Just at that time Mr. ‘Takeda, 
Mr. Yao and Mr. Hashida, of the Theological Department of 
the Kwansei Gakuin, kindly offered to take charge of the slum 
Sunday School, and thinking that Eiichi’s house was too small, 
they hired a house of six mats (nine feet by twelve) two doors 
off. This was one mat larger than the previous house and Eiichi 
and Uchiyama moved into it. 

The Sunday School and the evening services were held in this 
house of six mats. Next door there was a house in which lived 
a prostitute named Shika and Eiichi soon became friendly with 
her and the two other girls that lived with her, and from them 
gathered particulars of the life of prostitutes in Shinkawa and 
also at Tobita and Nagatsuka in Osaka. Afterwards Eiichi 
found that one of the girls in the house, named Hatsu, was one 
who had been mentioned in the papers the previous December on 
account of some physical defect. She was an ugly-looking girl 
with protruding teeth. LEjichi advised her to try and reform, 
and Hatsu told him that if she could find any other way of get- 
ting her living she would reform at once. FEjichi thereupon 
went to see Mrs. Nobué Tomishima, who was running a private 
infirmary and, after explaining the case to her, got her to take 
Hatsu. Eiichi himself accompanied Hatsu to the infirmary, car- 
rying her clothes in a bundle. 


CHAPTER XXXVI 


Sufferings of the Poor 


MR RMRRRRRRRRKKRKRKK 


ZU went out every day to pick up rope. Uchiyama, on the 
| other hand, idled away his time, although he got up early 
every morning and faithfully cooked the rice for Eiichi and 

the sick man, a fact which impressed Eiichi. 

Life in the slums exactly suited Eiichi—in fact he had never 
found a life which suited him as well as the intense life in 
the slums. Every morning early, and late every evening, he 
went through the alleys of the slums and saw how each was 
making an effort to live, however small. Eiichi was not a little 
moved by these small efforts. 

One time, while he was walking round, he came upon an 
ugly, lame woman of thirty, named Fuji, formerly a prostitute, 
who lived in a small room for which she paid three sen a day. 
She had fallen eight days behind in her rent and the landlord 
had turned her out. Fuji was crying in a loud voice and her 
pock-marked, ugly daughter was crying by her side. Inside the 
house a rough-looking man, who had come to collect the rent, 
was tearing up the mats, 

“What's the use of letting a house to beggars like you when 
there’s lots of people want to take it?” he was muttering, half 
to himself. “Cheating people out of their money day after 
day. How d’you suppose I’m going to live?” 

“How was I to pay the rent when I hadn’t no money?” said 
the woman. “We ain’t had any food for the last two days, 
because there wasn’t any. If I’d had any money Id ’a’ paid 
you first of all, but business is bad and I can’t go about picking 
up things, or doing as some does, stealing cotton from the carts. 
I tell you I ain’t got no money.” 

A crowd of poverty-stricken people had assembled and they 
were expressing their sympathy for Fuji. A beggar-woman 
named Haru, seeing Eiichi there, appealed to him. 

284 


SUFFERINGS OF THE POOR 285 


“Help her, master,” she said. “It’s a shame. She ain’t had 
any food for two days, poor thing.” 

Exichi paid the rent for eight days for Fuji and promised to 
send her some rice. When he got home he found Masa, the 
wife of Yasu, who lived at the back of his house, standing by 
the side of the well, with a baby strapped on her back, washing 
something blackish which was hardly distinguishable as rice. Her 
eyes were red and swollen and as she had only one thin kimono 
on, although it was the coldest time of the year, the baby was 
placed next to her bare skin to keep it warm. 

Eiichi asked her why she was crying. 

“It’s very good of you to ask, master,” she replied. “My man 
wallops me because I ain’t got any rice, but he never brings 
anything home from the funerals and I ain’t got any money 
to buy rice, and as you know, master, I’ve got six or seven hungry 
mouths at home to fill, and I’ve borrowed money from every- 
body I could. ‘Go and get some money and buy some rice,’ 
says he. ‘Can’t you do that? A lot of good you are.’ That’s 
the way he bullies me, but I can’t go out like other women and 
get it on the streets, so I went to Nada, where all the saké 
breweries are, and gathered up the rice fallen on the ground. I 
thought of making some gruel with it, but it’s so mixed with 
earth that it ain’t eatable. My man puts all the blame on me and 
always says he’s going to kill me or wallop me.” 

The woman’s tears pattered down into the tub. 

Eiichi’s eyes quickly filled with tears in sympathy, and with- 
out saying anything he retired. A fit of hysterical weeping over- 
came him. 

“God,” he cried, “why do the poor suffer thus?” 

He determined that henceforward he would confine his ward- 
robe to one kimono and took an oath to God that he would 
touch neither meat nor fish, in order to be able to help these poor 
people. His remaining clothes he determined to sell and 'to give 
the money to the poor. He would become an apostle of one 
kimono. 

Immediately he called Uchiyama and told him to take the 
remaining clothes to the pawnbroker,—the warm winter kimono, 
the foreign clothes, everything else,—all, all of them. 

But Uchiyama admonished him with an old man’s wisdom. 

“You won’t get anything on the foreign clothes,” he said. 


286 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“They'll go dirt cheap. A yen or a yen and a half’s about all 
you'll get. Much better wear ’em,” and he refused to take them 
to the pawnshop. 

Eiichi therefore kept back the foreign suit and pawned all 
the others, receiving on them altogether seven yen thirty-six sen. 
With this money he immediately went to Yasu’s house at the 
back. Going in at the back-door he found one-eyed Yasu, still 
in his workman’s coat because he had no kimono, rolled up asleep 
in a greasy, hired quilt. ‘There were no screens or anything in 
the house and the shutters had to be kept closed in broad daylight. 
A sickly-looking child was sleeping at Yasu’s feet under the 
same quilt. His wife was cooking the broken rice at the stove, 
which she was feeding with pieces of old clogs, and the pot had 
just begun to boil. 

Eiichi came up silently behind her. 

“‘Here’s a bit for you to get some rice with, missus,” he said, 
and he handed her a five-yen note. 

“Oh, it’s too much,” she said. ‘‘AII this?” 

Ejichi silently laid the five-yen note on the floor at the en- 
trance and went off to Fuji’s house, where he left two yen. 

That evening Yasu, having bought saké with the five yen he 
had received from Eiichi, went to Eiichi’s house, drunk, to thank 
him. 

“Mr. Niimi,” he said, “‘you’re a regular saint, you are. You 
make me worship you. ‘This Shinkawa, you know, it’s an awful 
place, and no one knows what may happen to you, but [ll give 
my life to save you if anything does happen.” 

The saké had given him fluency even if it had made him 
somewhat inarticulate, and he made the vow with great em- 
phasis. 


ay, 
Pte 


CHAPTER XXXVII 
“Fighting Yasu” 
KR RRRKRKRRK KKK HK MM 


[T"s sending of the girl to the infirmary had offended 


the feelings of the people next door and after an 

interval of four days Shika’s husband came to kick up 
arow. He came with a naked sword, in his hand,—a sword of 
two and a half feet in length. 

“Ts Niimi in?” he asked. 

Eiichi was just-then eating his evening meal, but showed no 
alarm as he answered, “Yes, what is it?” 

“What is it? Well, I want to know what you mean by it,” 
and the man brought the back of the sword down right in the 
middle of the desk which served as the table for meals, sending 
the cups and plates and the food flying in all directions. 

Uchiyama, who was doing some cleaning out at the back, 
came in hurriedly. 

“What’s the use of getting in such a fury?” he said. “Just 
moderate your feelings and tell us what it’s all about.” 

Uchiyama held up his wet hands and winked his weak eyes. 

“T heared you was awful angry about Hatsu,” he went on, 
“but the teacher here, he’s come to Shinkawa to help people,— 
everybody that’s in trouble, you know. Hatsu, she asked him,— 
said she wanted to reform. The teacher ought to have told you 
about it, perhaps,—what he was doing, but, you see, he thought 
she was doing what you’d told her. . . .” 

A great crowd had assembled at the entrance and watched 
what was going on. Eiichi sat still, feeling rather embarrassed. 
Shika’s husband, who was commonly known as “Osaka,” con- 
tinued to talk excitedly. 

“Look here, Uchiyama, I ain’t saying it’s wrong of him to 
come and live here in Shinkawa since he’s come here to help 
people, but he ain’t going to gut it over me with his insolence. 

28 


288 BEFORE THE DAWN 


We got our own customs in Shinkawa, and he may turn up his 
nose at us taking a bit o’ the girls’ earnings, though I don’t want 
to make ’em prostitutes and I’ve got to live somehow. Now, 
you Niimi,” and he flourished the sword and made to strike 
Ejichi, who was sitting quietly at the desk praying. 

Uchiyama put his arms round Osaka. 

“Took out what you’re doing,” he said. “You'll be sorry if 
you have to go to prison. You’d better let me mind that bit of 
steel for you.” : 

Uchiyama tried to take the sword out of Osaka’s hand, but 
Osaka would not let go and continued to revile Eiichi while 
struggling in Uchiyama’s embrace. 

“Took here, you Niimi, where have you hidden Hatsu: T’ll 
pay you for this. D’you want to take my living away? I 
don’t want to go on struggling for ever in this Shinkawa, pimp- 
ing for prostitutes. If Pm a trouble to you [’ll get out if you 
lend me my travelling expenses. What d’you think I amt 
Give me a hundred yen,—fork it out, and T’ll leave any time.” 

“You give me that bit of steel,” said Uchiyama determinedly. 
“Tt ain’t safe.” 

Shika had now come with two of the girls in the house, and 
was looking on silently. In the alley an enormous crowd had 
collected. 

Then from the back Yasu, the undertaker’s man, appeared. 

“Yasu’s come, Yasu’s come.” ‘The report was passed round 
quickly by those nearest the door. Yasu was generally called 
“Fighting Yasu” because of his fierce quarrelsomeness, and the 
people round the door were afraid that the affair would develop 
into a terrible fight. Eiichi also throught that Yasu would make 
matters worse. Yasu, of course, had come according to his 
promise that he would protect Eiichi as a mark of his gratitude. 

“Here, Osaka,” he said, ‘“‘what ye talking about?” 

At this direct attack by the one-eyed Yasu the well-tattooed 
Osaka dropped his frightful scowl and silently allowed Uchi- 
yama to take the sword. 

“We know all about it now,” said the resourceful Uchiyama, 
“so you’d better go home.” 

Osaka began to retire in silence. 

Yasu looked as if he had just got out of bed. His face was 
dirty and, although it was cold, he wore only his workman’s coat 


“FIGHTING YASU” 289 


and no trousers. Standing in the yard in this condition he asked 
Eiichi what was the cause of the trouble. Uchiyama, however, 
hurried Osaka off, and they could hear him talking to Shika and 
the girls as they went along the alley, till their voices died away 
in the distance. ‘The crowd also followed Osaka and collected 
round the corner house. 

Yasu was talking about how brave he was in a fight, when a 
little girl peeped in at the door. She was Kiyo, Osaka’s adopted 
daughter, an attractive little girl of twelve years of age. Eiichi 
had given her a doll at Christmas time and after that she was 
always coming to his house. She looked at Eiichi with such a 
cheerful smile that it would seem she had already forgotten all 
about her adopted father’s behaviour. 

Eiichi called her, but she drew back. ‘To distract his mind 
from Yasu’s annoyance Eiichi went out and brought Kiyo in. 

“Is your father angry with me, Kiyo?” he asked. 

“I don’t know, teacher,” she said gently, “but please forgive 
him.” 

Her gentle plea brought the tears to Eiichi’s eyes. 


CHAPTER XXXVIII 
Sanko 
KMMKRMKMR RMR KR KK RRARR 


FTER that, for three weeks Shika and Osaka and Kiyo 
A never showed their faces. Shibata gradually grew worse 
and worse, but as Eiichi had to go to the insurance office 
every day, he left Uchiyama to attend to him during the day, 
himself taking charge when he returned at four o'clock in the 
afternoon. Shibata got weaker every day. His hair fell out 
pitifully as his illness increased and moreover his face swelled 
and became bloated. But, however ill he was, when he saw 
Eiichi his look was that of one worshipping a saint, and worship 
Eiichi as a saint he did. His voice became weak, apparently 
through tuberculosis of the throat, but it was clear that he was 
very grateful. 

Eiichi did everything he could for the sick man, and Izu, who 
slept in the next room, expressed his astonishment, saying that 
he could never have done it. Enjichi thought that there was 
something strange in Izu’s praise, and then, a week after the 
Osaka incident, Izu came to him with a proposal. 

“‘Master,” he said, ‘you know Sanko, the bean-curd seller,— . 
he stops at the Gifuya [a common lodging-house], but it ain’t 
easy for him because he’s sick. He asked me if I wouldn’t apply 
to you to know if he couldn’t come and live here. I want him 
to come and live with me.” 

Ejichi immediately consented and Sanko, the bean-curd dealer, 
whose real name was Sanzo Fujita, came directly. He was a 
lazy fellow, however, very different from Izu. Uchiyama didn’t 
like going out to work, though he worked well in the house, but 
Sanko would not even lend a hand at the cooking although he 
was being fed. He had a livid, bloated face, and had little 
vitality. His heart was weak and he himself acknowledged that 


he had syphilis. He never went out like Izu to pick up waste 
290 


SANKO 291 


rope, but had come with the expectation that Eiichi would sup- 
port him. Thus Ejichi found himself obliged to keep four 
people on his salary of twenty-five yen a month. Rice was only 
about seven sen a quart, it was true, but then he had four people 
to feed. Eiichi decided to give up his midday meal and the 
four of them agreed to live on rice gruel, pickled plums and 
bean soup. Uchiyama for some reason seemed especially pleased, 
as though he knew the reason, and even the sick man was grate- 
ful. ‘The only person who was dissatisfied was Sanko, and he 
and Uchiyama had collisions every day, which ended in Uchi- 
yama scolding him as a worthless fellow, whereupon Sanko was 
silenced. But he did not stop complaining of the gruel, and 
at every meal he and Uchiyama were bound to quarrel. 

Sanko was a man of thirty-four, but he was no exception to 
the rule that the workers generally look ten years older than they 
are, and he looked over forty. His hair was as long as Goemon 
Ishikawa’s and he never attended to it. He was such a coward 
that he was afraid to go anywhere by himself at night because 
he thought that he would see a ghost. The reason was this: 

Sanko had been an orphan since childhood and was sent out 
early to work for a bean-curd seller. Four years before, while 
he was in the employ of a bean-curd seller in Naka-michi, he 
had one day been sent to Wakinohama to sell some curd, when 
a drunken man struck him and smashed up the bean-curd he was 
carrying. Sanko then got angry and struck the drunken man 
with the carrying-pole, hitting him on a dangerous spot and 
killing him instantaneously. A policeman arrived and Sanko was 
taken into custody. He spent a year in prison and was then 
released on the ground of insufficient evidence, but ever since 
then he had been afraid of the man’s ghost appearing and de- 
veloped such cowardice that he was unable to go on working. 
Whenever he went to a new place to work every person seemed 
to him like the man he had killed. 

Eiichi pitied Sanko and asked Uchiyama to treat him kindly 
as he had no friends. So Sanko was fed and supported by Eiichi. 


CHAPTER XXXIX 
At the Office 


MRRRRKRRRRARARRRA 


IICHI went on working with his pen every day in a very 

kK humdrum style. He had no concern with the policy of 
the company; his business every day was to enter figures in 

the account books. “There were fourteen or fifteen other clerks 
and he was quite an insignificant person among them, but of 
that he took little account. In the autumn of the previous year, 
when he had had pneumonia and, although he had been given 
up, had recovered, he had determined that he would never com- 
plain about anything in his work. He did not approve of capi- 
talism, but he could not feel any ill-will against the director and 
manager of the company. He always bowed to them politely and 
never disobeyed their instructions. It was not that he did not 
know that he was assisting in developing their surplus value; he 
saw no other course save that of serving them faithfully. ‘There 
was no need to inquire whether he did this for the sake of others 
or for himself; if others profited by it so much the better. He 
determined that while immersed in a life of service he would 
quietly await an opportunity for raising the flag of revolt against 
capitalism. He therefore performed his work cheerfully. Also 
he thought that if a time for Socialism ever came, if the people 
who now faithfully served the capitalists did not do the same 
for society, then perfect Socialism was not possible. ‘The ser- 
vices being performed to-day were an introduction to the services 
required under Socialism. He respected everybody,—all the peo- 
ple in the slums,—Uchiyama, Izu, Fujita. Even if each one was 
a failure in life, for their failure he respected them, because he 
had discovered that each of them had some honourable reason for 
failure. He respected even Tomita, Hayashi and Ueki. He 
discovered that from one point of view he must love them and 
thus he respected them. He respected all the beggars and prosti- 


AT THE OFFICE 293 


tutes of the slums. Since these persons possessed honourable ex- 
istences, even if they had taken the wrong direction, there was yet 
time for repentance, and he respected them. Eiichi had entered 
into the spirit of Jesus, who came down to the world as the 
Saviour of mankind. As all must be saved, so all must be re- 
spected. “Those who were not respected were not worth saving. 

It was from this point of view that Ejichi respected all. He 
hated capitalism, but he could not hate people. He loved capi- 
talists in the same way as he loved prostitutes and gamblers. He 
himself was liked as a good-natured fellow by all in the office. 

Etichi was especially respected by Miyamoto and Taruya, 
whom he had come to know more particularly after the Maruni 
affair. His work in the slums was the talk of the office. Taruya, 
who was said to come of a poor family, took especial interest in 
Eiichi, and one day, about four o’clock in the afternoon, when 
the office was closing, gave him a fifty-sen silver piece to give 
away in the slums. ‘This was the first sympathetic offering that 
Eiichi had received from a friend, and as he took it he had a 
melancholy feeling. It seemed to him that he was a very shift- 
less fellow,—even that an insult was being offered him. But 
nevertheless he received it gratefully as a gift from God. 
Eisaku Kobayashi, the manager, when he heard Eiichi’s story 
from Tomiya, contributed ten yen. Eiichi also took this as a 
token of goodwill. 

Everybody in the office thus came to appreciate Eiichi, and 
when a beggar passed the office they would call chaffingly to 
him that a friend of his was passing. But they all respected 
him. 


CHAPTER XL 
Children of the Slums 
Pa PR FR FR FR GP! Boe Re Goel oe eae 


IICHI continued to suffer from fever. When the office 
kK closed for the day he felt all at once tired out and 
dragged his heavy legs to the slums, feeling as if his 
body did not belong to him. As soon as he got back to the slums 
he would throw himself down at the entrance still in his foreign 
clothes, and wait until the fever had subsided. Usually it would 
rise nearly to a hundred degrees. He knew that he had never 
been completely cured of his illness. When he caught a little 
cold and sneezed, drops of blood came from his lungs, causing 
him some distress. When he looked at those drops of blood and 
thought of his fate a shiver went through him and he was afraid. 
It was as though death stared him in the face. He would soon 
be dead and he would leave nothing accomplished. ‘The im- 
provement of conditions in the slums, of course, would not be 
accomplished; his literary work, his ideas, his faith, his art,— 
nothing of the things that he took an interest in would be left 
completed. Every day in the afternoon the fever overtook him 
in the same way. If he had to take to his bed at last, he thought 
with a sinking heart, who would look after him? No doubt 
Uchiyama would nurse him, but the thought did not bring him 
any comfort. Who would support him? He felt inclined to 
weep at life’s loneliness. 

Yes, that was the reason why the poor would never be other- 
wise than poor. It was not because they had no money that they 
were poor, but because of their loneliness. “That was the suffer- 
ing of the poor,—to be in a big city without a friend. When he 
thought of his own position his sympathy went out to the poor. 

From the end of January and all through February he preached 
in the street till his voice failed and he could not speak. He felt 
anxious lest he should have developed tuberculosis of the throat. 

294 


CHILDREN OF THE SLUMS 295 


These distressing thoughts always came to him when he threw 
himself down in the entrance to his six-mat room. At such times 
he would think especially of his stepmother at Awa and wonder 
how she was getting on, of his two younger brothers with his 
uncle at Osaka, of Emi, who had gone to far-off Formosa, but 
was soon to return, as she wrote. He thought how fate had 
scattered the family, and the customary tears fell. 

“I am become one of the poor,” he thought. “Ah, if Emi 
were only here, she would nurse me when I was sick.” 

At such times also his thoughts would turn to Tsuruko Tamiya, 
who had not written to him again. But for Tsuruko Tamiya 
he felt no more desire. 

When this melancholy fit overcame him he would jump up 
and go out in silence to gather all the children of the slums 
together and take them out into an open space, where they as- 
sembled with a great deal of noise. 

The children of the slums were very beautiful, especially the 
children of the pariah class) Embracing the babies and beautiful 
children of the pariahs, and thinking to himself with interest 
and delight that God is Love, he would spend the sad winter 
twilight in their company until the fever suddenly subsided. It 
was a febrifuge for his fever,—to call the children from their 
cramped quarters to come out and play. A great number of 
children gathered in the twilight,—it was not uncommon for a 
hundred children to be there. When there was such a large 
number he made them sing songs,—the Western school songs, 
while they imitated the goose-steps. ‘The cat’s caught the rat 
and the weasel’s run away,” they would repeat as they stood in 
long lines playing “Cat and Rat.” Eiichi would notice casually 
in the ranks of the children Jinko, Toraichi, Hanaé, Kazu, Ku- 
mazo and his latest friend Kiyo, besides many others. All the 
boys and girls were fond of Eiichi. There were even some 
who were mischievous on purpose so that they could attract his 
attention. ! 

The Sunday School was well attended, but Mr. Takeda, Mr. 
Yao and Mr. Hashida of the Kwansei Gakuin grew very per- 
plexed. Some of the children came bare-footed, but forgot when 
the school was over whether they had come in clogs or not. The 
result was that some of them would go off in any clogs that 
happened to be there without saying anything, causing the teach- 


296 BEFORE THE DAWN 


ers much embarrassment. As the clogs worn by the children 
were mostly old ones that had been thrown into the dust-boxes, 
and, moreover, odd ones that did not match, they did not know 
themselves which were which, as there were often as many as a 
hundred and twenty or thirty old clogs. Even when one of 
the teachers acted as clog-keeper, when school was over and the 
children were going, there would be great disorder. ‘There was 
no mark at all by which the children could tell which were their 
own clogs, which resulted in quarrelling and fighting. 

‘The children had not the least idea what the Sunday School 
was for, and Ejichi sometimes doubted whether it was much 
good and whether it would not be better merely to foster peace 
among the children. 

Besides all this confusion there was in the neighbourhood a 
depraved boy, an imp of twelve years old, named Matsuzo Iwa- 
numa, who was a relative of “Fighting Yasu.” While school 
was going on this boy would throw stones through the screens or 
would bring dogs to bark at them, or collect five or six other 
boys outside, who would call out repeatedly “Amen! Somen!* 
Cold somen!” and hide the clogs of the good children inside. 
Eiichi drove him away, but it was useless. The only way to re- 
form the children and be successful in the work of the Sunday 
School, Eiichi felt, was to take Matsuzo into his house. Eiichi 
went to see “Fighting Yasu” about it, and finally it was arranged 
that Matsuzo should come to live with him. Eiichi’s “family” 
was thus increased to six persons. 

Dr. Williams contributed fifteen yen a month. ‘That was 
not all. He brought Mrs. Pearson, the wife of the minister of 
the famous Presbyterian Church on Fifth Avenue, New York, 
who was in Japan on a visit, to see the slums and introduced 
Eiichi to her. Mrs. Pearson was greatly interested in Eiichi’s 
work, and before she went away she left a cheque for five hun- 
dred and fifty yen with Dr. Williams. Moreover she left a 
message for Eiichi that when she returned from an inspection 
of the evangelical work in China and Korea she would like to 
have a long talk with him. 

Eiichi was grateful from the bottom of his heart for this 


*Somen is a kind of vermicelli. The children were ridiculing the 
sound of the word “Amen,” which in Japan is regarded as the. distin- 
guishing Christian prayer. 


CHILDREN OF THE SLUMS aod 


five hundred and fifty yen. He rejoiced as the Israelites re- 
joiced when they gathered manna in the wilderness. With this 
five hundred and fifty yen it would be possible to feed five or 
six people in the slums for two years. He immediately sub- 
stituted rice for the gruel and pickled plums on which they had 
been living. He also returned to three meals a day instead of 
two. ‘The words in the Lord’s Prayer, “Give us this day our 
daily bread,” were appreciated by him for the first time. 

Now that he had money he could buy bedclothes. He bought 
ten second-hand quilts and provided Uchiyama with a separate 
bed. Izu had all this time been sleeping on a hired quilt for 
which he paid two sen a day. LEiichi now took pity on him and 
gave him and Sanko three quilts each. This made him short of 
quilts and in consequence Eiichi had to sleep with the gamin 
Matsuzo. ) 


CHAPTER XLI 


Some Rough Characters 


HE drunkards came to make trouble. Yoshida came 
and Mori, the jinrikisha puller. ‘“Teikoku” also came, 
and Awa, and Hiyama from across the road. ‘The 
visits of these drunkards had to be borne with some sort of 
patience. Mori was always imitating actors and interrupting 
Enichi’s open-air preaching. In the middle of a sermon he would 
make his eyeballs go round and round in his head, gesticulate 
with his hands and speak in a stage voice to make the people 
Jaugh. He was always drunk in the daytime, and then about 
midnight he would set off with his jinrikisha for the vicinity 
of the Fukuhara brothels. He had no quilts in his small room, 
but would roll himself up in the jinrikisha blanket to sleep. 
When “Teikoku” was drunk he would come to Eiichi’s house 
and talk nonsense. He was a good-natured fellow, however, 
and never got angry. All he did was to go about repeating “T 
say ... I say...” When Awa was drunk he would some- 
times come with ten sen as an offering to Christ and sometimes 
with twenty sen. ‘Then again he would sometimes turn up with 
a demand for thirty or fifty sen. Hiyama, who lived opposite, 
was a little bad-tempered and was very rough when he was 
drunk. As for Yoshida next door, he was an impossible man 
who made the children cry and tore up the floor in his house to 
burn for firewood. He complained that “the blasted Christians” 
made such a noise that he could not sleep, and objected to the 
singing of hymns. As there was only a thin plaster wall be- 
tween the two houses his anger was not without reason, but 
when he was sober he said nothing about it and was very polite. 
Yoshida had turned out his own “missus,” who had gone to 
live with “Oitabero,” but he always regretted it and used to go 
to “Ojitabero’s” house and shout insulting remarks. Nobody 


sympathised with Yoshida, however. 
298 


SOME ROUGH CHARACTERS 299 


As he did not pay his rent and was always breaking up the 
house to get firewood, the landlord’s wife got angry and came 
round to see about it, when Yoshida got so violent that he was 
going to strike her with a board from the floor. Some of 
Mizuta’s gang happened to be passing, however, and they set on 
to Yoshida with shouts and beat him senseless. Eiichi appealed 
to ‘Tomita that Yoshida’s life should be spared and at last pacified 
the men, but for four or five days Yoshida was hardly able to 
eat and not able to get up. He was not a man to profit by ex- 
perience, however. In a short time he was drunk again and 
swaggering to Eiichi about his strength. 

“Mizuta’s got seven or eight hundred in his gang, ain’t he, 
but when I get a bit lively and they get on to me they can’t 
kill me,” he said. 

One time, in the middle of a service, he rushed in naked and 
proclaimed that he had become a Christian. 

“You said the other day that it don’t matter what condition 
we come in, you know, so I came like this. Ain’t it all right?” 

“Put something on and come,” said Eiichi. 

“All right,” he replied, and just as Eiichi was thinking how 
obediently he had gone home, he re-appeared wrapped in a straw 
mat and sat down quite calmly, causing everybody to laugh,— 
Deguchi, Ito, Ishino, Ueki and all the women. Yoshida, how- 
ever, was quite unabashed. For ten minutes he sat there in 
silence listening to the sermon and then fell into a doze. Eiichi 
had told them to come in whatever clothes they liked and he 
felt that he could not very well raise any objection. Finally 
Yoshida woke up a little sobered and departed with the remark, 
“Tm going now.” 

But the men who gave Eiichi the most trouble were Koga 
and Hamai, who went about begging from foreigners. Koga 
came of a wealthy family at Kumochi in the suburbs of Kobé 
and had gone wrong while in the fourth grade of the Middle 
School. He had learned to gamble, which was the beginning of 
his downfall, and had joined Mizuta’s gang in Shinkawa, thus 
rapidly sinking to the very bottom. He also became fond of 
saké and was very rough when he was drunk. He worked 
among the boatmen at first, but as he had learnt a little English 
at the Kenki Academy after he had left the Middle School, he 
became friendly with the foreign sailors who had skipped their 


300 BEFORE THE DAWN 


boats and turned beggars, wandering between Osaka and Kobé 
and spending all the money they begged in drink. Mixing with 
these men Koga came to the conclusion that a beggar’s life was 
a very romantic one and started imitating them. He pretended 
that he was a Korean and went about begging at the houses of 
foreigners. — | . 

When Eiichi first moved to the slums in the Christmas of 
1909, the first English conversation that he had there was with 
this man Koga. Koga had read a little of the Bible and used to 
say, “I know the Bible, you see.” It was the fourth or fifth 
night after Eiichi went to live in the slums that Koga, helplessly 
drunk, came and was sick over Eiichi’s quilt, ending up by sleep- 
ing there that night. According to Uchiyama, Koga had such a 
passion for gambling that he even stole the shutters from his 
father’s house and sold them in the slums. Koga was always 
coming to ask for loans of ten or fifteen sen. He had a mild 
disposition, however. 

Still worse was Koga’s friend Hamai. ‘This man also preyed 
on foreigners, combining the professions of beggar and bully. 
In appearance he was very stately. He had bright, almond- 
shaped eyes, thick eyebrows, and a moustache in the Kaiser’s 
style, very majestic. In height he was about five feet five or six 
inches and his age was nearly thirty. Altogether he was a very 
elegant young man. His complexion was a little spoilt, how- 
ever, by too much indulgence in saké. He had only one kimono 
even in the coldest weather and was therefore always shivering. 

His first remark on meeting Eiichi was made in English. 

“Sir,” he said, “will you please give me a shirt?” 

Eiichi understood English, but as they were both Japanese 
he finally answered in Japanese, taking care to speak very politely, 
that the only shirt he had was the one he was wearing and 
therefore he begged to be excused. 

“Give me the shirt which you wear,” was the next demand, 
also in English. 
Eiichi took off the shirt in silence and handed it to Hamai, 

who said “Thank you” and immediately put it on. 

Then, still speaking in English, Hamai demanded fifty sen 
to pay for his lodging. Eiichi said that he had no money, 
whereupon Hamai accused him of being a hypocrite and a 
fraud. 


SOME ROUGH CHARACTERS 301 


“You're defrauding some rich man,” he said, and began 
threatening Eiichi. 

As Eiichi still continued silent, Hamai caught him by the 
throat and commenced shaking and kicking him. 

“How can a man sink to such a depth of degradation as this?” 
thought Eiichi, as the tears rolled down his cheeks. ‘Then the 
man caught hold of Eiichi’s carefully brushed hair, but even at 
this insult Eiichi was silent. 

Uchiyama, however, went out at the back to call ‘Yasu, where- 
upon Yasu, with his short sword, hastened over. On seeing 
Yasu, Hamai departed in silence. He had been drinking very 
deeply on that occasion and his eyes were fixed and his lips 
blue. Eiichi saw in him a man mad with drink. 

But it was not only once or twice that Hamai insulted Eiichi. 
If he wanted money he came two or three times a day. 
Ejichi’s was not the only place he visited for this purpose ap- 
parently. By the side of the slums there was a Kindergarten be- 
longing to the Baptist Mission and to this and to other places he 
went every day, extorting money by violence. At last the Kin- 
dergarten people reported the matter to the police and Hamai 
was sentenced to two weeks’ detention. He was just as bad 
when he came out, however. From Eiichi and the Kindergarten 
and from all the cheap lodging-houses he was always extorting 
money. 

Hamai also created disturbances at the open-air meetings. 
Once, when an open-air meeting was being held just across the 
Onoé Bridge,—the Christians in the slums and some comrades 
from the Kwansei Gakuin, altogether eight persons combining 
to hold a service,—Hamai suddenly appeared and without a 
word broke up all the lanterns and sprang at Eiichi, striking him 
three or four times on the face. Eiichi received the blows in 
silence, but Hayashi, who happened to be passing, forced his 
way into the centre of the crowd the moment that he saw that 
Eiichi was being assaulted, and snatching off his right clog 
struck Hamai on the back. “Don’t do that, Hayashi, don’t do 
that,” Eiichi called, but Hayashi would not listen and continued 
to strike Hamai with his clog. A policeman appeared just as 
Hamai and Hayashi had commenced to grapple with each other. 
No sympathy was felt for Hamai, and in the end he was taken 
to the police station. 


302 BEFORE THE DAWN 


When the crowd had melted away E1ichi thanked Hayashi 
and went to the police station to get Hamai released. The police 
knew Eiichi well, but they refused to release Hamai, on the 
ground that he was a well-known character who went round 
blackmailing all the lodging-houses and that the police had long 
been waiting for an opportunity to catch him in the act. So in 
the end Hamai had to spend the night at the police station. 

When Koga learnt that his friend had been detained by the 
police he hastened to Eiichi’s. Even Koga, however, seemed to 
have become disgusted with his friend’s conduct. 

“Fle’s been locked up thirty-two times,” he said. “Last year 
he got into a row in Tokyo. He tried to blackmail some noble- 
man’s family there and when the money wasn’t forthcoming 
he got in a fury and broke up a gold screen that was standing 
in the entrance. I never saw such a violent chap as he is.” 

In the papers next morning, in small type, on the third page, 
there appeared a report about the attack on Eiichi. 


CHAPTER XLII 
The Death of Shibata 


KR RRRR KKK KKM KK 


LL the prostitutes became friendly with Eiichipj—one of 
A them even went beyond friendship and fell in love with 
him. She was a rather pretty girl of twenty-three, named 
Hidé, who told Eiichi all about herself. This girl had her house 
in the middle of the next street nearer the sea. She had become 
the mistress of the brother of young Mizuta’s wife, but went out 
every night as a prostitute. She did not look at all like a prosti- 
tute, but had the appearance of a charming maiden. 

One day, when Eiichi was passing in front of her house, she 
called to him. 

““Won’t you make me your bride, Mr. Niimi,” she said boldly, 
“just for one night even? I’ve never had a lover like you. 
You’re like a saint, you are, living like you do, and so young 
too. It’s surprising.” 

“You shouldn’t make fools of people like that,” said Eiichi, 
who remained standing in the alley outside her house. 

“I mean it really,” she said, and she appealed to three other 
girls, who happened to be there to support her. 

Then they all began praising Eiichi. One of them said he 
was a fine young fellow and another admired his fearlessness 
when he was beaten by a bully. This led the talk to Hatsu and 
Osaka’s outburst. 

“Really Osaka needn’t have made such a row,” said Hidé 
sympathetically. “If he’d just said what was the matter the 
teacher wouldn’t have turned him down altogether, would he, 
but have given him fifty or a hundred. But people don’t want 
to give money to such a rough lot as he is.” 

Then Hidé began to tell Eiichi how she came to be a prosti- 
tute when she was thirteen, and how to work seemed foolish 


once you have become a prostitute, though she knew that she 
303 


304 BEFORE THE DAWN 


ought to repent. She would give it up at once, she said, only 
she had run into debt and had to keep up her payments to the 
club, and then she was ill now and then and ran into more 
debt and so had to keep on being a prostitute or she wouldn’t be 
able to pay everything off. 

Eiichi asked how much she was in debt, and she said a hun- 
dred and fifty yen. She had had typhoid fever the year before 
and that was why the debt was so large. | 

Four or five days after Eiichi saw in the newspaper that Hidé 
in collusion with a blackguard named Yagi something, had been 
concerned in the purchase and sale for one yen of a girl of 
fourteen, whom they had forced to become a prostitute, but 
that the affair had been discovered and they had both been taken 
to the police station. 

That beautiful girl, Eiichi thought. How horrible! He 
decided that Hidé belonged to the class of wicked women. 
Nevertheless he did not think that she had been wicked from her 
birth. It was the fault of her environment, the debasing effect 
of the slums. 

Another prostitute named Haru, a girl of weak intellect who 
lived at the Okayama, a cheap lodging-house, where she prosti- 
tuted herself among the lodgers, also had an inclination for 
Eiichi. She wrote a scrawl that was meant to be a love letter 
and after following him about handed it to him herself. Haru 
was noted in the slums, even among the other prostitutes, for her 
passionate sensuality, and they used to shout after her in the 
street. She came in the morning to Ejiichi’s house and did not 
want to go away again. 

“Teacher,” she said, “won’t you let me live here? Tl re- 
form and not go on the street any more.” 

You would not have thought that she was mad at that moment; 
to Eiichi she showed no trace of sensuality. 

In the evenings, at Osaka’s house next door, the girls con- 
tinued to entice the men in, but this did not continue long after 
the trouble with Osaka. One Saturday evening in March, when 
Eiichi got back from the office, Uchiyama expressed admiration 
for Ejichi’s extraordinary influence. 

“What is it?” asked Eiichi. 

“Well, Kiyo, Osaka’s daughter next door,—she’s been here I © 
don’t know how many times with Hanaé, asking for you, be- 


| 
| 


THE DEATH OF SHIBATA 305 


cause she said she wouldn’t be able to see you again. They kept 
asking, ‘When’ll he be back?? I don’t know how many times. 
Osaka told me he was going away to a place north of Osaka 
because he didn’t like Kobé, and it seems he didn’t like living 
next to us since that row. I felt very sorry for Kiyo. ‘I won’t 
forget Mr. Niimi and the Lord Jesus all my life,’ she says, 
and she stood there at the door crying half the day.” 

When he heard this Eiichi was moved to tears. A voice 
in his bosom whispered that it was a victory for the Gospel. 
Children easily understand the Gospel of Love and Jesus. How 
beautiful! She said that she would never forget Jesus and him 
and wept half the day. He himself wished he could feel such 
a strong yearning as to make him weep half the day. 

Then he thought that she might be still somewhere about, and 
he looked in next door. But the mats and everything had been 
taken away and the house was empty. 

He asked the eleven-year-old Hanaé in the house on the other 
side. 

“Kiyo cried half the day at the teacher’s door,” said Hanaé 
shyly. “She said her father was taking her to Nagatsuka and 
was going to sell her, and that there wouldn’t be any Sunday 
School there and it would be so lonely and she didn’t want to 
go. She did cry.” 

“When was she here?” asked Eiichi, but he could only learn 
that it was a little while ago. 

Eiichi wandered here and there through the narrow alleys 
thinking of Kiyo’s soul and of her future. All sorts of unex- 
pected things had happened since he had come to live in the 
slums and the problems raised had been so perplexing that in- 
stead of engaging in the improvement of the slums he feared 
that he himself was being absorbed into them. 

Shibata grew gradually worse and worse. His whole body 
was in corruption and the offensive odour could be smelt fifty 
yards away. Eiichi and Uchiyama took it in turns to wash 
the sick man’s linen, which they carried to a ditch in Azuma- 
dori early in the morning. In doing this Eiichi was filled with 
thoughts of the discipline of religion. 

Shibata was given up by Dr. Tazawa in the middle of Febru- 
ary, but he lingered on, his faith increasing astonishingly every 
day. Eiichi made no special effort to convert Shibata, for he 


306 BEFORE THE DAWN 


thought that it was wrong to force a person’s belief. One had 
only to do one’s duty and faith would grow naturally, he 
thought, and therefore he said nothing to Shibata, but only tended 
him with a mother’s love. As Shibata’s illness increased he had 
a craving for eggs and milk. Eiichi gave him everything he 
wanted and Uchiyama was moved to the bottom of his heart 
by LEtichi’s action. Uchiyama also sympathised with Shibata 
from the depth of his heart and tried to do everything he could 
for him. Shibata’s faith grew deeper. 

Uchiyama had now become a saint to Eiichi. Two or three 
months before he had thought Uchiyama a perfect example of 
an idle fellow, and now that he found Uchiyama doing every- 
thing he could to help him, he was astonished. He heard Uchi- 
yama praying repeatedly for Shibata. It was Uchiyama’s habit 
to go into the southwest corner of the room and pray with 
closed eyes. After that he would go to Shibata and tell him 
in a simple manner stories from the Gospel of Jesus that he had 
heard from Eiichi, and Shibata believed all that he was told. 

Uchiyama’s faith was a very simple one. 

“I do feel sorry for Shibata,” he would say to Eiichi, “but it 
was through the mercy of the Lord God in Heaven that he 
came here and received the salvation of Jesus so that he might 
by good fortune go to Heaven.” 

Eiichi was very pleased with Uchiyama’s faith. 

But God did not listen to the prayers of Eiichi and Uchi- 
yama, and on the 21st of March Shibata sank into the long 
sleep. It was a death which greatly affected Eiichi. 

That morning Eiichi had gone to the office. A little after 
ten o’clock Ueki came with a message from Uchiyama. 

“Shibata’s going to his Father’s home. Please come at once,” 
was the message, after delivering which Ueki departed. 

Eiichi did not catch the meaning of the message. Going to 
his father’s home? Did he mean that Shibata was going to 
his adopted father’s house in Higashidé-machi? Perhaps it 
was because they had not looked after him properly. That would 
be very regrettable. But if he tried to walk in his present con- 
dition he would certainly fall down on the way. It was very sad 
that he should have failed to understand all their kindness and 
should be going to his adopted father’s house on the eve of his 


THE DEATH OF SHIBATA 307 


death, as probably there would be no one at the lodging-house 
who would take any interest in him. 

Thinking these thoughts Eiichi returned to the slums and 
found Uchiyama waiting in the alley. 

“Master, Shibata’s gone to his Father’s home at last,” said 
Uchiyama. 

Even then Eiichi did not catch the meaning. 

“Eh? Gone to his father’s house in Higashidé-machi?” he 
said. 

“No, no,—to his Heavenly Father’s home. He passed away 
very peacefully. At the end he asked specially for you. ‘Uchi- 
yama,’ he says, ‘the Heavenly Father’s going to take me home,’ 
and he passed away in a kind of doze.” 

Eiichi’s tears fell when he heard this. Deep in his heart he 
wondered why his faith was not as great as that of Uchiyama 
and Shibata. He himself had had thoughts of going to Heaven, 
but till that moment it had not struck him what returning to 
the Heavenly Father meant. ‘They had not reasoned on the 
matter. “Io Uchiyama and Shibata death was a return to the 
Heavenly Father. What profound faith they had! Shibata 
had gone before him to his Father’s bosom. 

Like the Prodigal Son, Shibata had gone home treading in the 
footsteps of victory. “Amen! Amen!” Eiichi repeated. 

The funeral was fixed for five o’clock in the afternoon. The 
City Hall would have to be notified and Shibata’s father in 
Higashidé-machi must be informed. Eiichi himself went to 
the City Hall and got Ueki to go to Higashidé-machi. Ueki 
made himself unexpectedly useful at this time. 

It was the first funeral that Eiichi had had from his own 
house in the slums,—the funeral of the first person who had 
died in the slums with faith in Jesus, and Eiichi thought at first 
of having a full length coffin in Christian style. ‘Fighting 
Yasu,” the head of the undertaker’s men, told him, however, 
that it would cost fifty yen, so he gave up the idea and bought 
an ordinary Japanese box-coffin. 

Although the funeral was not to leave till five in the after- 
noon, at about three o’clock Shibata’s father came, at the head 
of the members of the second fire-brigade, so they started at 
four. 


308 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Eiichi and Uchiyama performed the last services for the dead 
man and placed him in his coffin. Yasu and his men arranged the 
coffin-bearers and all the other details of the funeral. 

Before the funeral left Eiichi delivered a very short address. 
Shibata’s adopted father and the men of the fire-brigade, fifteen 
or sixteen in all, collected in an open space in the yard and 
listened reverently. ‘The preacher wept from beginning to end 
of the address. “That was because he doubted whether, if his 
own condition became like that of Shibata’s, he would have such 
great faith as Shibata. As it was his habit to look at everything 
from the materialistic point of view, he felt that he himself 
would have died cursing God and man, and he was ashamed of 
the baseness of his disposition compared with the pious Shibata. 

Up to then he had been indifferent to the question of im- 
mortality. In reading James’s lectures on Pragmatism he had 
become still more indifferent. He valued the reality of the 
present moment;—beyond everything he esteemed the ‘religious 
fervour of the passing moment. ‘Therefore he thought that he 
would not be frightened, no matter when the wind of death 
would sweep him away. In September of the preceding year he 
had had the experience of lying between life and death, but 
even then he had had no fear of death. He was calm in the 
face of death. But beyond that absence of the fear of death 
he could not reach. He could not regard death as a victory, and 
still less could he reach, Shibata’s state that crowned itself with 
the glory of death. In Shibata’s case death was the highest art. 
By means of it he had ascended into the heavens and had easily 
crossed the frontier of death. When Elichi witnessed such a 
solemn death he was struck with admiration. ‘To him such 
strong faith was worth more than billions of prayers or millions 
of scriptures, and it made a deep impression on his mind. 

He expressed these thoughts in his brief address. ‘The fire- 
brigade men apparently did not understand in the least what he 
was talking about. ‘They listened without moving, but their 
faces showed no emotion. Uchiyama and Ueki wept. “Sanko” 
Fujita sat idly looking on with his mouth open. 


CHAPTER XLIII 


Loneliness 


KRRRRR MRK KK MMM KK 


FTER the death of Shibata, Eiichi had a void in his 
heart. He had a feeling that as Shibata had died so 
quickly he had been remiss in nursing him, and that 

therefore he had not attained to perfect love of his fellow-men. 
He felt very disheartened. The more he came to know the 
slums,—the more he came to realise the darkness in which the 
people lived,—the poverty, murders, lawlessness, gambling, 
prostitution, and unfilial conduct,—all the depressing conditions 
that existed there,—the more he came to understand why Jesus 
had died on the Cross. Once you looked earnestly on all the 
ugliness of this world there was nothing to do but to die. He 
blamed himself for clinging to life since he lacked the resolu- 
tion to fight whole-heartedly against the evils in the world. 

No one could comfort Ejichi’s lonely soul. He had forsaken 
love, ambition, fame, even knowledge, and had now consecrated 
himself thoroughly to the service of God. It was not that he was 
without sexual desires, but they were only momentary. It had 
been his habit to comfort himself with recollections of Tsuruko 
and thoughts of Kohidé, but after he had received baptism and 
had begun preaching strenuously in the open air he had almost 
forgotten them, and since he had come to live in the slums and 
entered into the spirit of the Saviour this habit had completely 
gone. Indecent talk of prostitutes did not affect him in the 
slightest, and in the circumstances he thought that the wearing 
of a hair-shirt at night by Sir Thomas More to mortify his sexual 
desires was rather curious. 

Eiichi decided that he would live a holy life. If he was to 
perform miracles like Jesus he would have to extend a helping 
hand to all in the slums and cure them all. He thus recognised 
that it was necessary for him to lead a pure life. 

But he felt very lonely. Every Sunday he went up into the 

309 


310 BEFORE THE DAWN 


hills. One Sunday, in the hills behind Nunobiki, among the 
trees by the side of a brook, he spent three hours and a half in 
reading the whole of the Gospel according to St. Matthew from 
the first chapter to the last, and in praying continually that he 
might be enabled to follow in the footsteps of Jesus. On an- 
other occasion, at noon, he climbed the summit of a hill opposite 
to Mount Maya and prayed to God to give him Kobé and the 
slums. Nature, sleep, and children were his greatest comforters. 
Throughout his loneliness nothing comforted him more than 
the two or three bright children—as bright as Kiyo—in the Sun- 
day School, and the increasing interest in the evening services, 
with Deguchi as the leader. Lately “Fighting Yasu” had taken 
to coming to the services, and generally there was a congrega- 
tion of fourteen or fifteen persons. From his street preaching 
also he drew in two or three persons. The Sunday School had 
an attendance not short of seventy or eighty and the room be- 
came too small to hold them. Eiichi was afraid that the noise 
made by the children in the Sunday School would prove a great 
nuisance to the neighbours, especially to Yoshida next door, who 
not only disliked Christianity, but was also displeased with Eiichi 
because Eiichi had told him that he should not drink. He there- 
fore never failed to make a disturbance at each meeting. 

Great sympathy with Eiichi was felt by Mrs. Mizuta. 

“Ain’t there no way of reforming a bad man like Yoshida?” 
she said. “TI don’t think we should let him live in our houses 
if he puts ye to such trouble and disturbance.” 

As Eiichi found his house too small and Yoshida objected to 
the noise, he proposed that Yoshida should move to an empty 
house opposite and that he himself should take the house next 
door, which would be very convenient for him. Mrs. Mizuta 
immediately agreed and ordered Yoshida to move across the 
road. Eiichi expected Yoshida to object, but Yoshida agreed to 
move if his arrears of rent were wiped off, so Eiichi paid the 
month and a half’s rent due from Yoshida and got possession 
of the house next door. It was in the first part of April that 
he got possession of the house and he immediately broke down 
the wall between the two houses and by boarding in the yard 
made a large room of fifteen by twenty-one feet, which he 
thought would do very well as the meeting-house of the slums. 
Now that he had a large house Eiichi was very pleased and 
the children still more so. Seeing their pleasure delighted Eiichi. 


CHAPTER XLIV 


The Stepmother 
KR RRRRRRRKKKRKRKKH 


N the 5th of April Eiichi received a letter from Awa 
saying that his stepmother was ill and asking him to 
go and see her. Eiichi got leave of absence from the 

office and went off to Itano district for three days. His step- 
mother was suffering from an attack of rheumatism which had 
deprived her of the use of her legs, but what distressed Eiichi 
more than his stepmother’s rheumatism, was the total disappear- 
ance of the big outhouses and the stable and the storerooms and 
the big two-storied house. All that was left was the two-roomed 
house at the back, where his stepmother lived alone. This 
caused him more distress than anything else. Ties of kinship 
bound Hisa to the branch family of Tamiya of West Shintaku, 
the head of which was her younger sister’s child and her nephew. 
She ought really, therefore, to have been taken care of by that 
family, and there was no obligation on Eiichi to look after his 
stepmother, to whom he was not related by blood. Her younger 
sister had died about the time that Ejichi’s father had died, how- 
ever, and there was some attempt on the part of the West 
Shintaku family to give her the cold shoulder. She had only 
a small amount of savings to live upon—some said two thousand 
yen and some three thousand yen—but Ryosuké, her younger 
sister’s husband, had got his eye on the money and wanted Hisa 
to take the place of her dead sister. 

Hisa’s sister had been married before and had given birth 
to two sons. Afterwards she had taken Ryosuké from Myoto, 
as her second husband, who had thus become stepfather to the 
eldest son, the head of the house. Also to Ryosuké she had 
borne four children, and between the first and second families 
there was constant discord. ‘Then when Hisa’s sister had died 
Ryosuké had gone to live with a widow at Middle Shintaku, 
311 


312 BEFORE THE DAWN 


and while he was expecting a child by her, he yet proposed that 
Hisa should marry him. 

Eiichi was surprised to find the same depravity in the coun- 
try as he found in the slums. 

““Ryosuké is certain to victimise me if I live here alone,” said 
his stepmother, “and as I don’t mind where I live you'd better 
take me into your house.” 

To this petition Etichi listened sympathetically and told her 
before he left that if she did not mind living in the slums he 
would come and fetch her at the end of April or the beginning 
of May. 

When he got back to the slums on the morning of the 8th 
of April what a sight greeted him! ‘Tomita had brought Kuma’s 
“missus” Toku to sleep with him in the six-mat room, and Kuma, 
with a drawn sword, had come in to make a disturbance. ‘Toku 
had just fled by the back entrance, dressed in a faded red petti- 
coat, and Kuma, with the drawn sword in his hand, was asking 
Uchiyama where she had gone. Kuma did not make any attack 
on ‘Tomita because he knew that Tomita carried a pistol. 

Eiichi had come back earlier than they expected and they 
were all surprised. Tomita was naturally the most dumb- 
founded and he could only scratch his head and say he was 
sorry. Liichi thought at first that Tomita and Toku were the 
only intruders, but then he found that there was another girl 
sleeping there—a girl named Shizu,—and a discharged prisoner 
named Sawada. Eiichi was taken aback. He asked why Shizu 
was sleeping there and Uchiyama replied carelessly that it was 
just to help her. But Sanko was not to be silenced. 

“She slept with Uchiyama last night,” he said. 

Shizu was a girl of seventeen, of a naturally pale complexion 
which was increased by anemia, and her disordered hair made 
her look like a ghost. She was a slovenly girl, and till four days 
before had been lying suffering from paralysis at the house of 
a man of ill repute named Yagi Senzo, who acted as pimp for 
wandering prostitutes. A month or two before that she had 
been living with a navvy, thirty years older than herself, at a 
common lodging-house. When she became ill the navvy had 
turned her out and she had taken refuge in Yagi’s house. Ac- 
cording to Uchiyama, Yagi had also turned her out, and as she 


THE STEPMOTHER 313 


said that she had no place to sleep except under a bridge, he had 
taken her in without any idea of doing anything wrong. 

Sawada was a man who had been twice sentenced for obtain- 
ing goods on false pretences. He said that he was a friend of 
Kuma, Toku’s husband. 

Eiichi deplored the defilement of the brotherhood of Jesus 
that had taken place in his absence, but put it down to his own 
lack of wisdom. He got rid of Sawada as quickly as possible, 
but on the other hand made arrangements for keeping Shizu. 
Thus his “family” was increased to six. 

Tomita became desperate and came in the afternoon, very 
drunk, to pick a quarrel with Eiichi, but Eiichi, to avoid him, 
went to the seashore to pray. “Tomita afterwards, to try his 
pistol, he said, fired at the wall in Eiichi’s house, and Eiichi on 
returning found many small bullets embedded in the plaster. 


CHAPTER XLV 


Tsuruko Tamiya , 
RMRRKRRRRRRRRRRR 


T was the afternoon of the third Thursday in April. Eiichi 
had received a message from the Ladies’ Society of the Kobé 
Church, stating that they had collected some old quilts and 

clogs, bales of charcoal and other things, for the use of the 
people in the slums, and he had himself taken a handcart and 
gone to get them. ‘The handcart was quite full. He had 
descended the slope into Kitanagasa-dori and was going along 
the road by the side of the railway when all at once he met 
Tsuruko Tamiya. 

She was carrying a parasol and was dressed in a very plain 
kimono. He himself had on only one tight-sleeved kimono, the 
skirts of which were girded up, while he pulled the heavily-laden 
handcart along with difficulty. If he had not spoken, he thought 
afterwards, T'suruko would have gone on without recognising 
him, but he drew the cart close to the fence along the railway 
line and spoke to her. 

“Oh, Mr. Niimi,” she said, “what are you doing?” 

He replied that he was taking some things that he had re- 
ceived down to the slums. 

The day was cloudy and the murky air was more than usually 
oppressive. ‘I’suruko herself seemed disconsolate. She was re- 
turning from Hiroshima to Awa. 

“T could never do that,” she said carelessly. She did not 
show any interest. 

“‘Tsuruko,” said Eiichi, making the plunge at once, “how 
about that question?” 

“That question? Oh, my uncle made such a fuss about it 
that it’s impossible in my present circumstances. I don’t intend 
to get married at all. Tve changed my mind and decided to 
get a position at some secluded place.” 

314 


TSURUKO TAMIYA 315 


“Secluded place? Where?” 

“As teacher in some elementary school, I’m thinking where I 
shall go to.” 

“Tt’s almost two years, isn’t it?” 

“Yes. You look older.” 

“Yes, I probably look older still in this garb.” 

“T heard all about you some time ago from Dr. Williams’s 
wife. It’s impossible,—quite impossible.” 

“Well, I thought I’d ask you again about it. That settles 
the matter, doesn’t it?” 

“You hurt me when you talk like that. I don’t think I could 
be so pure as you are.” 

Tsuruko’s eyes were filled with sudden tears and she bit her 
underlip. 

“Well then, Tsuruko, I must be going,” said Eiichi, and 
he grasped the shafts of the handcart. 

‘Tsuruko was all in a flutter. 

“Please wait, Mr. Niimi,” she said, and she laid one hand on 
the shafts of the cart. ‘Then she took out her handkerchief and 
began to wipe her eyes. 

“Forgive me,” she said, “do forgive me.” 

An up-train passed along the line, making a tremendous 
clatter. 

“ve got a lot to tell you,” went on Tsuruko, “but I can’t 
say it now. . . . Good-bye.” 

Ejichi’s sorrow was aroused in sympathy and his tears fell 
on the dusty road. But it would never do to allow people to 
see them weeping in the road, and Eiichi summoned up his 
courage. ; 

“Good-bye, T’suruko,” he said. “May God guard you and 
keep you safe.” 

He commenced dragging the handcart along and had taken 
one or two steps when Tsuruko, regardless of whether people 
were looking at her, holding her handkerchief to her face, burst 
into sobs. Five or six steps more and Tsuruko came running 
after him. 

“Do forgive me,” she said, and walked along with him. 

*““There’s nothing to forgive,” said Eiichi, ‘Everything is in 
God’s hands. Follow your own path. My way is to the slums 
where I mean to live and die. God is keeping watch over us,” 


316 BEFORE THE DAWN 


They walked together in silence as far as Ikuta-maé. A 
little farther and ‘Tsuruko spoke. 

“T have not the heart to say more now,” she said. “I am 
a stained and worthless creature. Good-bye.” 

She spoke brokenly. 

“Good-bye, Tsuruko,” said Eiichi stoutly. ‘Good-bye for 
ever.” ; 

Tsuruko held back her tears and raised her eyes to meet 
Ejichi’s and as their eyes met there came to Eiichi the feeling 
of one living in a profound mystery. ‘T'suruko’s beautiful, in- 
telligent face showed signs of sorrow. For three or four sec- 
onds they stood gazing at each other and then Tsuruko again 
cast down her eyes and in silence returned along the road she 
had come. Eiichi, without a look behind, proceeded with the 
handcart, but the tears were rolling down his cheeks. 


CHAPTER XLVI 


Ems Return 


RRR RMR MK KM HK Mw 


MI came back suddenly from Formosa. It was on the 
morning of the 18th of April, a beautiful day, when 
there came a telephone message from Murai at the 

Kajiya-cho office asking Eiichi if he would not come round and 
see her. LEjichi got permission from Kobayashi, the manager, 
and went round to Kajiya-cho to meet her. It was the third 
year since they had met and they had so much to tell each other 
that they did not know where to begin. 

“Father has gone,” said Emi, and she commenced weeping 
silently. 

“T hear Masunori and Yoshinori have gone to Uncle Yasui’s 
to be taken care of,” continued Emi amid her tears, after two 
or three minutes’ silence. 

Eiichi had not the heart to talk about it and there was an- 
other interval of silence. 

“And the big house at West Umazumé has been broken up, 
T hear,” went on Emi. 

Emi continued to weep silently and Eiichi joined his tears 
with hers. 

Emi had her hair done in a chignon and looked very young. 
She was pitifully sallow, like all who live for some time in 
Formosa. ‘To people in the homeland they look as though their 
blood had dried up and their faces turned the colour of mud. 
Emi was not a beauty, but still her face was not ugly and she 
was not bad to look at, only a little dark-skinned. But the rosy 
cheeks which she had had when she was sixteen or seventeen,— 
that is three or four years before,—which, although she was so 
dark, made her look pretty, had disappeared and her health ap- 
peared to have suffered in Formosa, so sallow had she become. 

Eiichi could not restrain his tears when he thought of the 


pitiful lot of his sister whom he loved so much. 
317 


318 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Finally he took her back with him to the slums at Fukiai. 
On the way he asked about her husband and also about the baby 
she was expecting. She told him very briefly that her husband 
was thirty years older than herself, that he was a hunchback, 
and that she had had a miscarriage. 

When Eiichi asked why she had come back, she said that her 
stepmother at Tokushima had written to her asking her to 
return as she was suffering from rheumatism and had lost the 
use of her legs, and she had come back to nurse her. 

“When do you intend to go back to Formosa?” Eiichi asked, 
and received the answer that she was not going back. She did 
not tell him why, saying only that her husband’s mother was a 
very difficult person to live with. | 

Eiichi had not the heart to press her with further questions 
and with intervals of silence they walked to the slums. Eiichi 
had not seen Emi for such a long time that he thought he would 
like to make a little feast for her, but there was nothing to be 
got in the slums. When she got into the house there was not 
even a cushion for her to sit upon. As the big room was not 
homelike, they went into the six-mat room which was used as a 
kitchen, in the three-mat room next to which Shizu was sleeping. 

It was just twelve o’clock, so the two made a very simple 
meal together, which seemed to please Emi very much. She 
said that it seemed to her as if she had come home. ‘This made 
the tears come into Elichi’s eyes. 

After the meal Emi helped Uchiyama to wash up the things, 
setting to work briskly with the sleeves of her kimono tied up. 
Ejichi thought it was pleasant to have a sister and rejoiced. 


CHAPTER XLVII 


Summer in the Slums 


RR RRR MM KR MMMM Mx 


IICHI made a point of going to Bentenhama every Fri- 

kK day at about four o’clock in the morning. This was the 

place where the lumpers mostly congregated, and Eiichi’s 

object was to propagate the Gospel among them. He thought, 

in his earnestness to make converts, that there might be some 
there, even one, who was willing to turn to the life of Christ. 

In the dawn of the early summer morning he went to Benten- 
hama with his dangling paper lantern, marked with the sign of 
the Cross. Each morning he had a fresh inspiration and felt 
that he was growing in grace. In the southern sky there hung 
the Dog Star: it seemed to be twinkling for his sake. He al- 
most thought it was and returned thanks. He felt that it was a 
pathetic idea, this of his,—to seek to save erring souls. He had 
not time, like other people in the world, to ask himself whether 
he was in earnest or not. The world was plainly wandering in 
a wrong direction. He realised that: he realised it every time 
he left the slums and every time he entered the slums. He 
realised painfully what the existence of the slums meant. It 
was like something boring into his heart; at times it inclined 
him to burst into sobs. 

It was the same feeling that made him get up early in the 
morning and go among the longshoremen: at Bentenhama to 
preach. ‘To preach Socialism was to frighten people and make 
them refuse to listen. He therefore decided to do his best, 
whether he lived or died or went mad, to spread the Gospel of 
Jesus. 

When he got to Bentenhama the dawn was breaking. One 
of Nickel and Company’s foremen came up. 

“No one here yet,” he said, and then, looking closer at 
Eiichi, “Oh, it?s Mr. Niimi. How zealous you are,” he added, 


and turned round and went away again. 
319 


320 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Eiichi stood listlessly on the sea-wall. On the inside of the 
wall were collected two or three hundred night-soil carts drawn 
by men and women. ‘The contents were being put one by one 
into big barges, and the sea round about was contaminated with the 
filth. An intolerable stench struck his nostrils. He felt pity 
for the workers. ‘The men and women were extraordinarily 
silent at their work. They looked like a crowd of ants going 
backwards and forwards along the gangways. To Eiichi their 
work appeared sacred. 

The boatmen, on the other hand, directly they gathered began 
to gamble. How much silver was wagered! ‘There were sixty 
or seventy men gathered round the money they were gambling 
for. | 

After Eiichi had distributed tracts among them he sang a 
hymn in a loud voice, and after that began to preach. As there 
were many there who had come from the slums of Shinkawa, 
some of those in the crowd knew Eiichi and listened to him 
respectfully. But the greater number were indifferent. Eiichi 
himself was inclined to laugh at his own efforts. Why must he 
go this length to preach the Gospel of Jesus? He felt sorry 
for himself. 

‘The refuse boats sailed away. Barges were going out into 
the harbour, filled with lumpers. The steam hammers at the 
Kawasaki Shipbuilding Yard began to be noisy, and small 
launches ran swiftly here and there over the harbour. Great 
foreign ships were coming in and over the beautiful white- 
crested waves, smaller vessels were leaving the harbour. The 
morning sun was now shining brightly over the whole harbour. 
Light and shade could be clearly distinguished,—even the grain 
of the wood on the sides of the innumerable boats which 
crowded Bentenhama. Eiichi was distressed when he looked at 
the brilliant scene to think what small relation there existed be- 
tween it and the gambling loafers,—between it and the nine- 
teen-hundred-year-old story he was preaching and the gamblers. 

‘The higher the sun rose the darker became the colour of the 
sea. The sight somehow saddened Eiichi. ‘Trade was dull, and 
out of the crowd of longshoremen there were many young men 
for whom there was no employment. Some of these lounged 
idly on the sea-wall or abandoned themselves again to the 
gambling craze, but others cried, “Let’s go to the pier. Per- — 


SUMMER IN THE SLUMS 321 


haps somebody will hire us there,” and they went off. The 
voices of the unemployed made Eiichi feel sad. 

Generally he followed the men to the big ships to carry on 
his evangelising work, but that morning he returned direct to 
the slums, where, in company with his invalids, he supped the 
rice-gruel prepared by Uchiyama and, without a rest for his tired 
body, trudged off to the insurance office. 

But all Eiichi’s efforts to evangelise did not end in failure. 
‘There were two or three men among those who worked in the 
harbour who got into Eiichi’s favour, and among them a young 
man of nineteen, of great promise as he thought, named Soeda. 
This served to increase Eiichi’s zeal, and on Monday evenings 
he made it a rule to go to the boarding-house of Nickel and 
Company’s men in Nakayamaté-dori, to preach the Gospel, while 
at the same time keeping up his Friday morning services at 
Bentenhama. 

In the summer months quarrels in the slums increased. In 
the alley at the back Eiichi heard screams every evening. ‘There 
were terrible quarrels between husband and wife over the hus- 
band’s relations with the step-daughter; there were drunken 
quarrels; there were gambling quarrels between brothers. When 
there was any attempt at mediation the quarrels would grow 
fiercer than ever. In the daytime every one went out to work 
and the place was quiet, but in the evening when they came 
back there was sure to be a disturbance. The heat of the 
summer evenings was sufficient to keep one from sleeping, but 
a far more serious disturbance of rest was the noise made by 
the fighting. 

In summer in the slums it is impossible to sleep. The sur 
shines on the roofs all day and in the night the heat is radiated 
from the low ceilings. But worse than that, when the light is 
put out, there is an endless stream of bedbugs. If the lamp is 
lit again to catch the bugs, some forty or fifty of them can be 
caught every night. Eiichi tried sleeping on a shutter, but the 
bugs got onto that. Then he tried sleeping on the desk, but 
the bugs got onto that also. They tormented him almost to 
madness. But Eiichi was not the only one who suffered: all 
the others in the house suffered from the attacks of the bugs. 
Emi suffered horribly. When she scratched herself where she 
had been bitten great swellings appeared. When Uchiyama was 


oP BEFORE THE DAWN 


bitten and scratched himself the sores made by the itch from. 
which he was suffering spread and his skin looked as if it had 
been poisoned. But Sanko was the one most troubled by the 
bites of the bugs. Frequently he would cry out in the night, 
“T can’t sleep for the bugs.” Matsuzo, the mud-lark, and Izu 
were quite indifferent, and Shizu did not complain. She was 
afraid that if she made complaints in her helpless condition they 
would not keep her any more. 

Eiichi spent many sleepless nights. His body was so tor- 
mented that he seemed on the verge of nervous prostration. 

At that time a friend of his, a Dante scholar, named Fumio 
Tokida, who had been his fellow-student in the Shirokané days 
but who was now pastor of the Myojo Church at Shitaya in 
‘Tokyo, came to visit him. He had come down to get married 
at Osaka. As Eiichi felt lonely at times he was very glad to 
talk with ‘Tokida about all that had happened after they had 
deft Shirokané, and as there were three days still before the 
‘wedding, they decided that they would enjoy each other’s com- 
pany during that time. At night, when they went to bed, 
however, ‘Tokida was in agony. He carried the shutter on 
which he was sleeping first to this place and then to that. ‘The 
bugs were too thick in one place, he said, and chose another, 
and all through the night, in the darkness, he was dragging the 
shutter from one place to another, murmuring in his torment, 
“T can’t sleep. I can’t sleep.” 

But nevertheless Tokida bore it in patience for three days. 
Then on the evening of the third day, with a very important 
look on his face, he left the slums attired in a frock-coat for 
the scene of the wedding ceremony, which was at the North 
Church at Nakanoshima, Osaka. [Ejlichi had some business to 
attend to and was unable to leave the slums till later, but he 
could hardly help laughing at the wedding ceremony to see the 
dignified look on the face of Tokida, who the night before had 
looked anything but dignified when he was being tormented by — 
the bugs. 

Eiichi had not the heart, of course, to bring his stepmother to 
such a place. At the end of May or June he gave up the idea © 
of taking her to live with him as he had promised. He sent her 
a letter asking her to come at the beginning of the autumn. 

In August Shizu recovered to a point where she could walk 


SUMMER IN THE SLUMS S25 


by herself, and went back to the lodging-house to live with the 
docker thirty years older than herself. 

In August Eiichi was very busy. He wanted to take all the 
children in the slums to Suma or Akashi for the day, and for 
this gathered contributions from sympathisers which enabled 
him, on the 16th of August, to take eighty children on the out- 
ing. It was a very delightful day for Eiichi. Matsuzo, who 
had greatly improved, was of great help to him in looking after 
the children, who all of them—Jinko, Toraichi, Hanaé, Kazu 
and the rest—ran and tumbled about delightedly on the sea- 
shore. “There was only one thing that troubled him, and that 
was that the little girls took off their clothes and went in to 
bathe quite naked. As they did not seem ashamed E1ichi was at 
a loss what to do. 

Infectious diseases were very prevalent in August. ‘There 
were cases of cholera in the Sakamotoya lodging-house in the. 
same street. Yesterday thirty-six persons had been isolated at 
Wada Point; to-day the wife of the barber in the alley behind 
had to be taken to the Higashiyama Infectious Diseases Hospital. 
Such was the news that he heard every day. But Eiichi did 
not feel any alarm. Matsuzo Iwanuma’s blind mother had been 
taken to the isolation hospital suffering from cholera, and he 
went round to visit her. He also went round all the tenements 
and warned the inmates to be careful. He felt assured that 
having crossed the death-line he would not catch any infectious 
disease, and so every day after four o’clock and on Sundays he 
went to visit the families where such cases had occurred. 

It was after the Bon festival that Uchiyama came to him with 
a request that he would conduct a funeral. It appeared that the 
husband of a beggar named Tsuta, who lived in the next alley, 
had died after a long illness and there was no money to bury 
him. LEjichi willingly undertook the task. He paid for the 
coffin and himself helped to put the body in it before he con- 
ducted the funeral. 

Tsuta after that felt great reverence for Uchiyama and came 
to visit him every day. According to what Uchiyama said, Tsuta 
had been the beauty of Shinkawa some years ago before she 
had smallpox. Her beauty had all gone now, however, and 
she was an ugly woman who got her living chiefly by going out 
begging every day with two babies hanging round her, one in 


324 BEFORE THE DAWN 


front and one behind. She was not a pleasant woman to look 
at and appeared about forty or fifty years old, but Uchiyama said 
that she was only twenty-four. However that may be, from 
the time of the funeral her intimacy with Uchiyama went far 
beyond friendliness. 

Less than two weeks after the funeral of Tsuta’s husband 
Uchiyama came to Eiichi again with a request that he hold an- 
other funeral for Tsuta. It was Tsuta’s baby that had died. 
As Ejichi had seen the woman begging at Sannomiya many 
times with two babies hung round her, he asked which baby had 
died. Uchiyama explained she had only one baby. 

“But she’s always been going about with two babies, hasn’t 
she?” said Eiichi. 

“It helps beggars to go about like that,” said Uchiyama. 
“They borrows ’em in the neighbourhood.” 

“So Tsuta had only one baby, had she?” 

“Well, to tell the truth, that’s a baby she adopted. She 
adopted it because she wanted some money to get medicine for 
her husband.” 

Eiichi then understood. But though he had been living nine 
months in the slums he had not yet come to understand slum 
ways and even now he was shocked. But he conducted the 
funeral of the adopted baby. Returning from the cemetery 
at Kasugano he found that Tsuta had come with a request that 
she be admitted into the Christian Church. Eiichi did not 
understand what her idea was and called Uchiyama. 

“It’s a lot to ask,” said Uchiyama, “but won’t you employ 
Tsuta as a servant? Now she’s alone she ain’t got anywhere 
to go.” 

Eiichi was astonished at the impudence of this demand. 

“We can’t have a woman in the house,” he said. ‘You 
took Shizu in before without asking my permission and put me 
to a lot of trouble, and I won’t have Tsuta.” 

However, on making inquiries Eiichi found that two or three 
days after the death of her husband Tsuta had begun to go with 
Uchiyama, and he understood that they wanted-to live together. 
Since when had the dull Uchiyama become so cunning, Eiichi 
wondered, thinking that the only opportunity they had to con- 
sort together was when he was absent at the office. 

At first Eiichi thought that there was nothing ta be done 


SUMMER IN THE SLUMS 325, 


but to turn Uchiyama out. Then he recollected what a valuable 
guide Uchiyama had been to him in the slums. He was inclined 
to help him, and as he knew that Uchiyama would want forty 
or fifty yen if he sent him to another house, and Eiichi had 
not so much money, he lent the couple the room which had been 
occupied by Shizu. ‘This increased the number of people in the 
house to seven. He himself, with Matsuzo, Izu and Sanzo, 
slept in the big room that he had made in the houses next door 
but one to his own. 


CHAPTER XLVIII 


Emi’s Secret 


MRMRRMRARRRARKRRRRAR 


AMBLING went on every day in Kitahon-machi, in the 
Ge middle of the slums, and every day a great crowd of 
people assembled there. One day, at the end of August, 
some twenty or thirty policemen in plain clothes were seen 
loitering about the vicinity of Mizuta’s house, and finally young 
Mizuta and seven other men were caught in the act of gambling 
and marched off to the police station. After that gambling 
ceased for a little, but four days had hardly elapsed before it 
slowly started again on a small piece of vacant ground in the 
middle of the slums, with a good lookout for the police. 

It was not long after this that the elder Mizuta was also 
arrested while at a gambling party at Nishinomiya. The way 
the arrest was effected was told by Tomita in detail every time 
he came to visit Uchiyama. After the arrest of the Mizutas, 
Tomita’s haughtiness and arrogance were extreme and he began 
to drink to excess, which he had not done before. When he 
got very drunk he always went round to Ejichi’s house, when 
Hayashi, who had not been there for some time, also came, and, 
as Tomita and Hayashi were there, Ueki also looked in. Some- 
times they took a little nap before going away. Emi, who was 
shocked in listening to their talk, repeated it all to Eiichi when 
he came back from the office, and according to her story, Tomita 
and Kiyokuma Sato, commonly called “Wakayama,” a man who 
kept a common lodging-house in the main street of Kitahon- 
machi and also lent out money at high interest, were quarrelling 
over who was to look after Mizuta’s family and property during 
his imprisonment. It seemed that the followers of Wakayama 
and Tomita would shortly come to blows. 

Many years before Wakayama had been one of Mizuta’s 


gang, but had later raised his station in life. Wakayama’s feel- 
326 


EMI?S SECRET 327 


ings of obligation did not go so far as to cause him to send a 
present to the Mizutas while they were in prison,—in fact, on 
the excuse that he was following a respectable calling, he did 
not concern himself at all in the misfortunes that had befallen 
them. ‘This made Tomita very angry. 

Sure enough, on the evening of the 31st of August, there 
was heard the sound of a pistol being fired at the lodging-house 
kept by Wakayama, which was called the Wakayamaya, and 
some seven or eight of Mizuta’s followers, with drawn swords, 
commenced to make a disturbance. In a moment hundreds of 
people were rushing to the spot with cries of “A fight! A fight!” 
Mizuta’s men were under the leadership of Tomita, and E1ichi, 
running to the scene on receiving the news, saw that Tomita 
was helplessly drunk and was flourishing his pistol. 

“Wakayama?” he kept crying. ‘Who's Wakayama? What's 
he got to be proud about just because he’s saved a bit o” money?” 

The other men were recklessly cutting to bits the mats, the 
screens and other things with their blunt swords. 

“Wakayama ain’t in seemingly,” ran the talk in the crowd. 
“Tf he were there’d be an awful row. He ain’t a chap to give 
in easily, he ain’t.” 

A man like a detective now appeared on the scene. “Here, 
less row there,” he said, and calmed them down. 

When things had grown quieter Eiichi called to Tomita, who 
was drunker than he had ever seen him before, and with the 
help of Uchiyama, who happened to arrive on the scene, he led 
Tomita home. On the way home Tomita was boasting all the 
way. 
“Who's Wakayama?” he kept repeating. ‘He’s no one. He 
won’t feel so proud now. If he’d been at home Id ’a’ beaten 
him to death.” 

Although Emi had come Uchiyama still kept the accounts. 
A strange thing about them was that although the price of rice 
fluctuated and the quality of the rice was not changed, at the 
end of the month, when he came to pay the bill, Eiichi found 
that the price for half a bushel was always the same. As the 
bill had been the same every month since April, Eiichi asked 
about it for the first time and received a strange answer from 
Uchiyama. 

“’That’s because the rice-dealer fixes up the bill by sending 


328 BEFORE THE DAWN 


better rice when the price falls and worse rice when it goes up,” 
the said. “He changes it very clever.” 

Erichi went to the rice-dealer himself to ask, but the rice- 
dealer gave him the same answer as Uchiyama. ‘The strange 
thing about it was that the rice bought that day was entered in 
the tradesman’s book as a little higher than the actual market 
price. Asking the reason of this, Eiichi was told that the in- 
terest for a month was added to the price in the book. This 
answer did not satisfy Eiichi at all, and on the last day of 
August, Ueki happening to come in, he explained to Eiichi that 
Uchiyama, since he had formed relations with Tsuta, had been 
recelving a commission from the rice-dealer. 

Eiichi now understood all and he decided to part with Uchi- 
yama. He gave Uchiyama ten yen, knowing that he must have 
made twenty yen in commission, and put him into another house, 
and from that time Emi looked after the accounts. Emi was 
very glad that she could be of some use to Eiichi, but as she 
always seemed to be despondent, Eiichi was greatly distressed to 
know the cause. 

One evening in September he asked her about it, but Emi did 
not make any reply. ‘Then suddenly one day a man called who 
said he was a Buddhist priest from Formosa. He had a very 
intimate talk with Emi and in the evening they both went out 
together. Eiichi thought it was very strange and asked Emi 
who he was. 

‘This strange priest continued to come every two or three 
days and each time he came Emi went out with him. In con- 
trast with Emi’s youthfulness the priest was a cunning old rogue 
of thirty-five or -six and had a very artful face. Though he 
felt it was rather unkind to Emi, Eiichi inquired fully into her 
relations with the man and Emi at last confessed. Eiichi then 
learnt that owing to the fact that Emi’s husband was a hunch- 
back and unable to have any children, she had entered into rela- 
tions with the priest and had conceived a child by him which had 
miscarried in the spring. 

“Did you cause the miscarriage?” Eiichi asked. 

“No, no, there was nothing of that kind,” answered Emi in 
a choking voice and would answer nothing more. 

Beyond this Eiichi felt that he could not carry his question- 
ing. He had great sympathy for Emi and his spirit recoiled as 


EMTS SECRET 329 


if the sinner had been himself. He went out into the yard and 
wept. 

Eiichi felt that it would distress Emi unbearably to carry his 
cross-examination any further and was filled with anxiety. The 
priest continued to come frequently to see Emi. 

At last Emi one day spoke out. 

“I am a worthless creature,” she said, “and can no longer 
receive your protection, brother. I am going away.” 

Her words gave more pain to Eiichi than when he had parted 
from his father. 

There were three more days left in September and the cool 
autumn winds had begun to blow when Emi, heedless of Eijichi’s 
entreaties, left the house. She did not say where she was going 
or whether she was going to join the man. All she said was: 
“Forgive me for the anxiety I have caused you. I am going _ 
now, brother. I am too ashamed to stay any longer.” 

Eiichi was unable to restrain her. If she had said that she 
was going to commit suicide he would have done something, 
but when she merely said that she was leaving he could do 
nothing. 

It was after breakfast when she left. There were all sorts of 
things he wanted to ask about, but she left abruptly, with her 
handbag, passing westward along the alley and leaving the 
slums. He would have kept her, he thought, had she had a 
child’s spirit, but she had a woman’s spirit and there was no 
means by which he could restrain her. 

“Emi, may God protect you and keep you safe,” were the 
words that rose to his lips. 


CHAPTER XLIX 


Inari Worship 
MK KK KKK RRRRRAAHR 


“ O you know that woman’s seen a ghost?” 
1) It was Shin talking to Masa while she attended to 
the fire under the stove. | 

Shin was the wife of Renzo Okuyama, who was a scavenger 
in the employ of the City Hall. She looked about forty-two or 
-three. Besides having lost the sight of one eye through small- 
pox, her coarse hair made her very ugly. She was a very capable 
woman, however. Every day, when she was feeling well, she 
powdered her pock-marked face, put a small tub on her head 
filled with syrup, and carrying a small drum in her hand, went 
to sell the syrup at the cross-roads where the children gather. 
She was a great gossip and she had got hold of Masa, Fighting 
Yasu’s wife, to tell her stories about Ju, who was a worshipper 
of Inari, the goddess of rice, whose messenger is the Fox.* 

Eiichi had gone to pay a visit to Shin after coming back from 
the office, with the intention of talking to her about Christianity. 
Her house was in the alley behind Eiichi’s, opposite to Fighting 
Yasu’s. | 

The autumn sun had not yet ceased shining on the slums 
and there was some yellow evening light still on the upper part 
of the houses opposite. Shin’s children were all out playing in 
the alley. Masa was carrying her latest born on her back and 
had some pickled radishes, wrapped up in a piece of old news- 
paper, in her hand. She greeted Eiichi, who was sitting in Shin’s 


house, and Shin, who was looking after the stove, detained her ~ 


with all sorts of talk till at last the conversation got round to 
religion and Shin began to talk about a woman named Ju, with 
whom she was well acquainted. This woman was the wife of a 
barber living in the same alley and was a worshipper of Inari. 
Shin wanted to let Eiichi know everything that she knew about 


* The ignorant, however, confuse the fox with the goddess and wor- 
ship the fox. oh 


INARI WORSHIP 331 


Ju, but addressed her conversation to Masa, who was leaning 
against the door-post with her eyes fixed on the well opposite. 

“Yes, yes, she’s very strange,” chimed in Masa. 

Shin took some live coal out of the stove on a shovel and put 
it into a dirty brazier, filled with burnt matches and tobacco- 
ends, in the front room. 

“Ah, but she’s so highly strung, she’d see anything. Why, 
she must be eleven or twelve years older than Shigezo.” 

Eiichi knew Ju well. She annoyed all the neighbours every 
night by reciting prayers and beating a drum. 

Shin, still continuing to chatter, brought out a pipe and com- 
menced to smoke, while Masa loitered over to the brazier and 
sat down by the side of Eiichi. 

“Yes, she’s too high-spirited, she is,” said Masa, ‘The sight 
of her quarrelling with her husband every night ain’t nice, is 
it? She don’t think it right unless she takes Shigé with her wher- 
ever she goes. ‘They quarrels every evening out of jealousy.” 

Shin sent the smoke out through her nose. “Um,” she said. 
“That’s her high spirits. She’s changed her husband five times. 
Ain’t it extraordinary.” 

Eiichi gazed at the red and yellow match labels stuck on 
the walls and listened in silence to their talk. 

“Really? Has she had five of ’em?” 

“Didn’t you know? And you so intimate with her too. She 
had a baby when she was sixteen by some man south of Osaka, 
and the first time she got married she had two girls. That’s 
one of ’em,-—the girl that comes here so often. She’s a 
waitress or something somewhere they say. She’s the youngest 
of the two.” 

Eiichi noticed that Shin was tattooed on the upper part of her 
arm. Masa had become absorbed in the story. 

“Yes, yes,” she said, “she’s tall and got a round face and 
looks rather pretty.” 

“Yes,” went on Shin, “that’s one of the children by her first 
husband. Her sister’s in Yokohama, I hear, in a brothel or 
something. However, that husband, either he took another 
woman or something else happened, at any rate she was turned 
out or went out of her own accord, and the next time she became 
the wife of a man whose wife had died, and it was in his house 
that she saw the ghost.” 


332 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Yes?” said Masa. “Was it after the second marriage that 
she saw the ghost?” 

Eiichi, who found the story interesting, was drawn into the 
conversation. 

“Did that woman who worships Inari really say she saw a 
ghost?” he asked. 

A boy of twelve or thirteen came in with a baby which was 
crying to be fed. Shin took the baby and while she was feeding 
it went on with her interesting story in a loud voice. ‘The 
rice was beginning to boil over, but she took no notice of it. 

“They say that when the first wife was dying she called her 
husband and told him that she was dying, but that he mustn’t 
take another wife. ‘Then she made her will and died. But 
the husband, he didn’t pay any attention to what she said, but 
took Ju. Well, seven days after the marriage, every night, the 
ghost of the first wife used to come to her in a dream.” 

As the pot was now boiling very furiously Shin, still holding 
the baby, went to the stove and commenced to take out some 
of the fire, while continuing her story. 

““They say that after that she became like one mad. In the 
_ middle of the day she would cry out “The ghost!’ and run out 
into the street. “The other people in the house, they thought it 
was very strange and that the first wife couldn’t have reached 
Paradise, so they collected all their relations and all the people 
in the neighbourhood to say a prayer ten thousand times, and 
while they were saying the prayer in front of the shrine, about 
the middle of the night, suddenly Ju gave a groan and fainted 
outright. “There was a terrible scene. They called the doctor 
and a nurse, and at last she came round so that she could speak. 
“The ghost came out of the shrine,’ she says, ‘and kicked me,’ 
she says, ‘and then disappeared.’ ‘That’s what she says. But in 
spite of that she soon left the place. As she’ll tell you her- 
self, she became the mistress of a priest.” 

“Was it after that she went to live with Shigé?” asked Masa. 

“She couldn’t bear to be mistress of the priest for long, and 
it was three and a half years ago that she went to live with 
the barber.” a 

Eiichi felt as if he were listening to the talk of the woman | 
of Samaria, so interesting was it, although such stories as this — 
are by no means rare in the slums. But there was a reason for — 


INARI WORSHIP 333 


Eiichi’s taking a special interest in the story and this was that 
Ju’s present husband, a young man named Shigezo Motoki— 
only twenty-two, but looking very much older owing to his hay- 
ing had smallpox—had come to him in regard to the legal pro- 
cedure for registering a child that had been born to them, and 
had told Eiichi that he was drawn toward Christianity and was 
prepared to be a convert, but that his wife, being taken up with 
the worship of Inari and Fudo, would not allow him to become 
a Christian. This statement still lingered in Eiichi’s memory. 

Shin and Ju had both fallen down to slum life together and 
had become like sisters by sucking each other’s blood, They and 
five or six women companions who came from Azuma-dori, had 
all tattooed themselves on the right arm in the same place and 
in the same way, and used to meet together to drink and gamble. 
Eiichi had noticed before that Shin had the character for 
“strength” tattooed on her arm. Eiichi had also heard from 
Shin of the people in the neighbourhood who had shot the moon. 
She passed as a woman of character and was a little proud of 
knowing the histories of all the families in the neighbourhood. 

“I’m going home,” said Masa. “Tve got to make supper. 
We've had a good talk.” 

But after she had gone Shin continued talking for a long 
time about the histories of all the folks in the neighbourhood,— 
about how Mizuta, who was now rich and powerful, had 
started from nothing, his wife being only a prostitute, and how 
all the landlords in the place mostly came from the pariah vil- 
lages and were beggars when they started;—how Tada, who 
had been a beggar, was now a usurer, and so from the landlords 
of the slums to others,—a winding stream of gossip, ending in 
the remark that as the landlords had so much money they ought 
to help the poor. 

Eiichi heard enough of the gossip of the slums to have enabled 
him to collect the material for a romance, and after that, when- 
ever he wished to hear the history of the slums, he always went 
to Shin’s house. _ 

On becoming more intimate with Shin he found that she was 
a very capable woman and could be relied upon for many things. 
If Fighting Yasu came to make a disturbance the person who 
could take him home was Shin. But on the other hand, she could 
also be very troublesome. She was behind with her club money 


334 BEFORE THE DAWN 


and came to Eiichi to borrow it. Then again, she knew an old 
couple that were in want and appealed to E1ichi. Again, as 
her husband’s work as a scavenger was not to his liking, she said 
that she wished to buy an outfit for pipe-mending and would 
Eiichi lend her four or five yen. Eiichi granted all her requests. 

Shin brought the old couple, whose name was Kishimoto, and 
they were allowed to live in the meeting-house. Shin, to show 
her gratitude, said that she wanted to become a Christian. 

“TY don’t know anything about it,” she said, “but it must be 
good because it teaches people to be kind.” 

So she came to the services and brought with her Shigezo 
Motoki, the barber, and the small congregation became a large 
one. The barber was able to read Japanese letters freely, and 
set to work with great energy and curiosity to read the New 
‘Testament. 

He told Eiichi about the things that astonished him. 

“What amazes me first,” he said, “is that Mary should have 
conceived a child by the power of God when she had no hus- 
band. But the almighty God must certainly have that power. 
Ju, at home, she’s always jawing about it,—how when she’s filled 
with religious fervour a woman can get a child without a man. 
Her third son,—the one that died when he was four, she says,— 
was born when she was filled with piety, she says, and according 
to her it was born without her knowing a man. I thought it 
was all stories, but according to Matthew’s Gospel, a child can 
certainly be conceived without intercourse with a man. ‘The 
cases of Mary and Ju somehow make me think it must be true. 
Then what amazes me next is that Jesus could bring the dead to 
life and cure the sick just by putting his hands on ’em. My 
wife has cured lots of sick people by praying continually, and 
if that’s so in one case it’s so in the other. Sickness is a disease 
of the soul and if you pray strong enough you’re bound to cure 
it. Then there’s another thing, and that is that when Jesus — 
was crucified he died but came back to life again. If he couldn’t 
do that he wouldn’t be God. But, teacher, what come out 0’ 
the tomb wasn’t his ghost, was it? Speaking of ghosts, Ju at 
home, she’s seen a ghost. Howsoever, this Jesus was certainly 
a remarkable person.’ : 

This was the way in mineh he rearranged the life of Jesus, — 
causing Eiichi much perplexity. Although the barber readily 
accepted the doctrine of miracles, Shin, who had not learnt her 


INARI WORSHIP 335 


letters and was unable to read the Bible, objected that she could 
not believe in a God that you could not see. 

“When you're praying you shut your eyes, don’t you?” she 
said. “And then in the darkness there appears a little shining 
cloud and in the middle of that there’s something like the god 
Amida. That’s God, ain’t it? I must have a god I can see.” 

Eiichi had to explain the Gospel of Jesus to all these ques- 
tioners, and he thought at last that he would like to meet this 
Ju who had made such a remarkable impression on the barber. 

Ju’s meeting-house was much grander than Eiichi’s. It was 
a five-mat room in a tenement house in the alley at the back of 
Kiichi’s, where some thirty-five men and women, old and young, 
assembled and worshipped Tensho Kodai Jingu by repeating in 
a loud voice the prayer “Namu myoho rengé kyo” (Save us 
through the Scripture of the Lotus of the True Law), beating 
time with clappers and a drum. 

It was the evening of the Ist of October when Eiichi went 
to see the proceedings, and he was surprised to see Shigezo, Ju’s 
husband, who at the Christian Church was always praying to the 
Heavenly Father, beating the drum, while Shin was working 
the clappers. Next to the barber, also, were seated the aged 
couple from next door, and the blind masseur was among the 
crowd, ‘There was also the daughter of Tané, the usurer,— 
the girl who had borne a baby secretly the other day and had 
done it to death. 

It was a very tedious service. For ten to twenty minutes 
they did nothing but repeat “Namu myoho rengé kyo” while 
beating the drum and striking the clappers. Eiichi looked on 
with patience, however, till at last the noise of the clappers 
ceased, the drum was silent and the cry of the worshippers grew 
lower. Then Ju, with her palms pressed together, lifted up her 
hands and waved them in the air while she cried repeatedly in 
a low voice “Namu, Arakuma Daimyojin” (Save us, Arakuma 
Daimyojin). All present, with a fearful look in their eyes, fixed 
their attention on Ju. 

Suddenly Ju rose to her feet, all her body quivering. 

“T am the Fox of the Myoken Shrine at Nosé,” she cried. 
“Ask me what ye will. I know everything.” 

This was the first time in his life that Eiichi had seen what 
is called the invocation of Inari, and there was something weird 
and at the same time something ridiculous about the ceremony 


336 BEFORE THE DAWN 


which made him want to burst out laughing. Nevertheless he 
stood in the shadow of the door and watched. The evening sun 
had now set and the alley was silent. The shrine was a small 
dirty cupboard of six feet by three, with two thick candles 
burning on it very majestically. 

Seeing Eiichi standing there five or six persons passing along 
the alley also stopped and gazed earnestly. 

Ju, having proclaimed herself the Fox of Nosé, the blind 
masseur and Shin and Shigezo expressed their acknowledgments. 

“The Fox of Nosé has come,” they said. “What an honour!” 

“We'll know everything to-day,” said Asa, the beggar. 

“Fox of Nosé,” said the blind masseur, “I have a question to 
ask you. How old are you?” 

Eiichi thought it was a very stupid question, but Ju, as the 
Fox, answered earnestly, “I am nine hundred and seventy-five 
years old.” 

“Really?” said the blind masseur. “I would ask another ques- 
tion. I suffer from rheumatism. Can you cure me?” 

“Certainly,” said the Fox. “Come here. If I touch you, you 
will soon be better.” 

She stroked the blind masseur from the shoulders down to the 
loins. 

The scene was an extraordinary one to Eiichi;—Ju, dressed 
in a dirty kimono, narrow girdle and light-blue apron, stood in 
a trance with her eyes shut and a frown on her pale face. 
Patient after patient came forward to be treated by the Fox. 
After some five or six had been stroked, conversation between 
them and the Fox began again. It was the daughter of the 
money-lender who asked a question. 

“Has my child reached Paradise yet?” she asked. 

“No,” was the reply. “It has not reached Paradise yet. It 
is still wandering in the sixth circle.” 

Hearing this the daughter of Tané fell down in a fit of weep- 
ing. Shin consoled her. 

“Don’t cry, Yaé,” she said. “Tt can’t be helped.” 

Asa, the beggar, asked about her sick husband. 

“Tord Fox,” she said, “the ‘sick man at home will get better, 
won’t he?” 


Asa’s husband, who was also a beggar, was suffering from ~ 


inflammation of the bowels. 


INARI WORSHIP 337 


“No,” was the answer, “there is no hope of his recovery.” 

“Isn’t there?” said Asa with a sigh. The lights on the shrine 
flickered. 

It seemed as if the questions were at an end as everybody 
was silent for two or three minutes. Then Shin spoke. 

“Lord Fox,” she said, “we thank you,” and two or three 
repeated after her, “We thank you.” 

Then Ju began to quiver and sinking down she fell forward. 
Again there was silence for five or six minutes, during which time 
a crowd of children came running along the alley to see the 
sight. “The Fox! The Fox!” they cried. Among them were 
Jinko and Toraichi and Kumazo and the three children of Fight- 
ing Yasu. 

Shin called to them from inside. 

“Here, you be quiet, Kuma,” she called. ‘Don’t make such 
a noise.” 

Ju was silent while the children peered at her with curious 
eyes. 

At last Ju sat up. 

“I must thank you all for your attention,” she said, as she 
arranged her hair, 

In reply they expressed their thanks to her. 

“Ju, didn’t it make you feel tired?” said Shin, while she took 
one of the children on to her lap. It was a question which ex- 
posed the truth. 

“What do you mean?” said Ju. “I don’t know anything that 
happened.” 

“Is that really so?” said Asa admiringly. 

“The Fox has gone! The Fox has gone!” cried the children. 
“Let’s go,” and they all rushed along the alley again. 

Eiichi also went along the alley, his mind filled with thoughts 
of what he had seen. He met Shin’s husband dragging his pretty 
little pipe-mending cart along the alley. 

The worship of Inari spread. Up to then the sound of the 
clappers and the voice of the worshippers had not been heard, 
but now in the house of the money-lender at the back of E1ichi’s, 
the sound of the drum was heard in competition with that at 
the barber’s. ‘Tané, the money-lender, became anxious, because 
two or three days before Inari had been invoked in her house. 
Inari had also been invoked by the wife of the carter who lived 


338 BEFORE THE DAWN 


opposite to Eiichi’s big room, and the husband was anxious. His 


wife had bought a beautiful Inari shrine and had hung up 
twenty or thirty tiny lanterns at the entrance to celebrate the 
occasion, but as she invoked Inari every morning and did not 
look after the baby, and was always saying strange things, her 
husband had grown angry and had broken into pieces the shrine 
that was not yet ten days old and burnt it in the alley. 

Eiichi did not know till then that the woman opposite was so 
taken with the worship of Inari, for she always stopped quietly 
at home and he never heard the sound of a drum or clappers. 
But when he learnt the circumstances he listened with a good 
deal of sympathy to the husband’s tale. 

“Four or five years ago I had great trouble with this invoca- 
tion of Inari and after I had burnt up the shrine I had to move 
cause my wife got so hysterical. For four or five years I heard 
no more about Inari, but lately there’s been a beating o’ drums 
in the neighbourhood, you know, and the other day she saw a 
fox or a badger possess the wife of the barber at the back here, 
and since then she’s been doing nothing but saying strange things. 
Her Fox comes from Tsutsui, she says, and she’s so worn out I 
don’t know what to do. She just loiters round all day and don’t 
do nothing.” 

The Inari shrine had been burnt and the wife came out with 
an unconcerned air. 

“There, I’ve burnt up the shrine,” said the husband, “‘and the 
fox must go away.” 

The wife laughed, but said nothing. She was a tall woman 
of about thirty, with her face covered with moles. She was a 
very obedient wife,—rare in the slums. 

“Christianity’s the best after all,” said the husband to Eiichi. 
“There ain’t no fox to come.” 

The travels of Inari were not confined to the slums of Kita- 
hon-machi. ‘The drum could be heard in Azuma-dori and in 
Higurashi-dori. Inari worship is a strange thing. According 
to the newspapers the police were also inquiring into it. In 
more than fifty cases, it was written, fines had been inflicted. At 
the pariah village of Tsutsui, before a tenement house in the 


main street, there was a large Inari shrine, with red pillars in — 
front of it. Eiichi was astonished at the revival of the worship — 


of Inari. 


CHAPTER L 


Some Converts 


RM RRRRRRKRKRKKKKRKS 


A LTHOUGH Eiichi lived in the slums he was not always 
in such mental distress as might be expected and at times 
made a study of the lazy people that he met, or, standing 

in front of the clog-mender’s, investigated the philosophy of 

clogs. Or again, walking round the tenement houses, with their 
two-mat rooms, he thought of Diogenes and the Cynics. 

Before he had been a year in the slums Eiichi had come to 
have a full knowledge of the mental outlook of the people there 
and had prepared a list of lazy people which ran to eighty names 
of men and women, beginning with Sakurai. ‘The degree of 
laziness, the occupation of the family, the cause of the laziness, 
age and health,—all were set down. 

Further on in the same note-book was a section headed ‘The 
Philosophy of Old Clogs,” with remarks like this:— 

“Men’s clogs are nine and a half inches long and women’s 
clogs eight and a quarter, but when they are first turned out of 
the log they are half an inch longer. The legs of fine-weather 
clogs are one and a half inches high and the front hole is bored 
about three-quarters of an inch from the edge. ‘The clogs them- 
selves are half an inch deep at the sides, but in the middle they 
are about three and three-quarter inches to four. The wider the 
wood the better. The high clogs for bad weather have legs about 
a fifth of an inch or a little over in thickness and the Japanese 
stand on these thin legs. The height of the legs in high clogs 
is about three inches and a quarter for women and about three 
inches and a half for men. Japanese on their high clogs pre- 
tend to be exalted, but their only superiority is that they are 
three and a half inches above the ground.” 

Again, Eiichi was an admirer of life in a two-mat room. It 
was not necessary for bachelors to live in a room larger than two 
mats, he thought. For himself he liked nothing better than to 

339 


340 BEFORE THE DAWN 


go and enjoy himself in the two-mat room of the old woman 
called “Neko.” ‘There was certainly no inconvenience in seven 
or eight persons sleeping in three five-mat rooms. 

Life in the slums was satisfying, but nevertheless, coming 
back from Moto-machi in the evening, Eiichi was always in- 
clined to be sick when he entered the slums, and felt miserable. 
But life in the slums was Elichi’s mission and he could not feel 
any aversion to it. He never had time to feel lonely. ‘There 
was always something happening. He was so busy that he forgot 
all his reflections and meditations. Moreover, there was too 
much wretchedness in his surroundings for him to be able to 
afford time for thinking. Nevertheless, if there was any laugh- 
able incident, they were all sure to laugh. Since he had gone to 
live in the slums, Eiichi had been able to understand for the 
first time the function of laughter. Laughter was the precious 
safety-valve provided by God. Even in the most unbearably 
hard and tearful times they tried to laugh as much as possible 
and Eiichi had learnt to laugh with them. 

Among those living in two-mat rooms, the one who laughed 
most was Haru, the beggar. She was the mistress of the tinman 
opposite, while still continuing to beg, and was very stcut, with- 
out any of the marks of a beggar. She was always laughing. 

“What's the use of crying, teacher,” she used to say. ‘““Teach- 
er’s always smiling, and if one’s got to spend one’s life either 
crying or laughing, it’s better to spend it laughing, ain’t it? 
Luck visits those who laugh, you know, teacher,” and she 
laughed. 

‘To those in good health there are plenty of amusing things 
in the slums. Etichi was astonished at the laughter of the 
people, which he had not expected. In contrast to the wry faces 
among the people in the middle classes, the people in the slums 
are unexpectedly cheerful. Intimacy with them is therefore very 
easy. 

Eiichi made many friends, but he found it difficult to get on 
terms of intimacy with the family of Hanaé, who lived in the 
house between the two houses he occupied. He heard that the 
family was in very miserable plight, although he had not known ~ 
it till then. Lately there had been a good deal of quarrelling be- 
tween the brothers and sisters, and he knew that some bad in- 
fluence had entered into the house. 


SOME CONVERTS 341 


Hanaé had two elder brothers and two elder sisters. Her eldest 
brother had become an actor and had gone to Osaka and not 
returned. ‘The next brother, who was nineteen years old that 
year, was working at the match factory. Her eldest sister, who 


_ Was a one-eyed woman of thirty-one or -two, was a very un- 


lucky person. She had married the son of a keeper of a common 
lodging-house, but he had been attacked by consumption and had 
been laid up for many years in a room in the lodging-house. She 
had therefore also to work at the match factory to support her 
husband and had there sustained phosphorus poisoning, so that 
her jaw had inflamed and all her front teeth had dropped out. 
By her consumptive husband she had had a child who was now 
six years old, and who was not only a cripple but blind. His 
blindness was due to some poison that entered his eyes at birth, 
and he had become a cripple when his nurse had let him fall. 
Moreover, the child was both deaf and dumb and altogether a 
very pitiful object. Hanaé had to carry him about on her back 
all day. 

‘The second sister was rather a pretty girl, A man named 
Tsuchiya, who was not quite right in his mind, was in love with 
her, but the mother,—a fine-looking woman, formerly the wife 
of a samurai of Koriyama in Yamato,—and the younger brother 
Katsunosuké were strongly opposed to her having any relations 
with him. ‘That was the reason why the brother and sister had 
come into collision. 

Whenever Eiichi saw Hanaé carrying Hidé on her back he 
felt as if he were in hell. ‘The child had got into the habit 
of sleeping all day and crying loudly all night. This would 
not have been so bad if it had only been for one or two nights, 
but it went on for months at a time, causing the whole family 
to complain that they could not sleep. It was not uncommon 
to hear Katsunosuké, in the middle of the night, telling his sister 
that it would be better to kill the child and threatening to kill it 
if it did not keep quiet, to which his sister would reply, “Yes, 
Katsu, Pve often wanted to kill the child myself, but then you 
know, it’s because of some ill deed done in a past life that it’s 
like this, and so we must be patient.” 

She was certainly an extraordinary woman. She had been 
married exactly ten years and her husband had been laid up with 
consumption for eight or nine years, during which time she had 


342 BEFORE THE DAWN 


not only nursed him, but had also supported her crippled child. 
She was a silent woman, but each time that Eiichi saw her he 
was struck beyond words by the sublimity of her character. 

Somehow the whole family had an aversion to Christianity. 
Although Hanaé came to see Eiichi every day, the mother never 
came. On the other hand Eiichi often went to see them and 
inquired into their circumstances. 

At last, at the beginning of October, the elder sister’s con- 
sumptive husband died, and no sooner was the funeral over than 
the elder sister and her crippled child fell ill. According to the 
doctor they were both suffering from consumption. While the 
mother and child were lying ill some talk was started at the 
lodging-house of getting the mother’s name struck off the family 
register, and as it was impossible for a young man of nineteen 
and his young sister, who only earned thirty sen a day, to sup- 
port a family of six persons, they were all thrown into great 
trouble. After the lapse of five days they came to Eiichi and 
asked him if he would provide them with money just to buy 
medicine. It was Katsunosuké who was the messenger, and he 
spoke as if he were talking to a familiar, unceremonious and 
curt. 

“You'll excuse me, sir,” he said, “but sister’s bad with her 
lungs and asks whether you'll give us some money for medicine.” 

Eiichi willingly granted the request and said that he would 
send Dr. Maeda of Yakumo-dori. 

But the patients grew worse day after day and the doctor 
decided that there was no hope. The family did not seem to be 
much concerned at the news;—at least, Katsunosuké said that it 
would be a relief. 

“If they’ve got to die,” he said, “it’s better they should die 
soon, cause otherwise we’ll all die of starvation.” 

This was not Katsunosuké’s view alone; it was that of the 
mother and Hanaé and all of them. It must not be thought, 
however, that they in any way neglected the patients. They paid 
them every attention. ‘Their desperation arose from the difficul- 
ties of their position. 

Eiichi comforted them as best he could and gave the mother 
many gifts of money in order that she might nurse the patients 
properly. ‘The sick daughter, when she heard of this, was 
moved to tears, but she did not say a word to Eiichi. Eiichi was 


SOME CONVERTS 343 


especially interested in them because they were suffering from 
consumption. 

They were not ill very long. After seven days they fell into 
a critical state, and on the morning of the fourteenth day, about 
four o’clock, the mother died. Of course there was no money 
for the funeral and Eiichi provided eight yen. 

The child, however, lived a comparatively long time. Every 
day Hanaé had to carry the half-dead, deformed child on her 
back, where, in its agony, it would seize and pluck out the stray 
hairs on the back of Hanaé’s neck. 

Ejichi did all he could to comfort the family and they in turn 
relied on him more than on a relative, so close was the inti- 
macy. Katsunosuké, especially, came to visit Eiichi nearly every 
evening, and finally took part in the open-air meetings. 


CHAPTER LI 
Kohidé 
rs tiice is aes Mek Ae Ao Maye Bir eides elke se ies ac ea sob < 


BOUT this time many young men began to gather at 
Eiichi’s place. Among the first was Takeda, a very 


virtuous young man. He first came at the time of the 
early summer rains. Then there was a fortune-teller,—a man 
of about fifty, with a fine moustache,—who came late at night 
with the request that Eiichi would teach his children Christian- 
ity. ‘This fortune-teller was a very eccentric person. He prac- 
tised fortune-telling at Shinkaiichi and was always on the look- 
out for persons suffering from some mental distress. 

“If you want to be cured of your trouble,” he would tell them, 
“‘you must go to the crossing below here and then turn to the 
right, and then five or six houses along you will find a Christian 
mission hall. ‘That’s where you must go.” 

His younger sister was a Christian and he himself had made 
a deep study of Christianity and was a believer. He was espe- 
cially of the opinion that the young of the present day needed 
the inspiration of Jesus in their careers. He told this to every 
one. It appeared that he had not been successful in leading his 
own children to Christianity and he earnestly made the request 
that Eiichi would instruct the young people in the Bible. 

Eiichi devoted what leisure he had to spare after his return 
from the office to talking about Christianity to a number of 
young people who had established a very small factory, in co- 
operation, for the manufacture of shell buttons, at Higurashi- 
dori, outside the slums. 

‘Takeda and his friend Yamamoto were the leaders and the 
workers numbered nine, including Inoué, Motoyama, Kubo, 
Sasai, Enomoto, Asai and the young brother of Takeda. ‘The 
majority were about eighteen or nineteen years old, but Inoué 
and Enomoto were only about fourteen or fifteen. When Eiichi 

344 


KOHIDE 345 


went to see them they were covered with white powder from 
the shells they were making into buttons, even to their faces, 
and as they were incessantly talking and laughing they paid little 
attention to the talk about Christianity. However, after Eiichi 
had been two or three times he got them to sing one or two 
hymns, although he could not create enough interest among them 
to get them to come to the services in the slums, 

At the beginning of autumn, however, Takeda came to see 
Eiichi at last. He came to listen to the sermon in his workman’s 
coat with his hair cropped short,—fat little Takeda. He had 
been to a Sunday School when he was a little boy and knew much 
about Christianity. 

Although Takeda came the other young men did not put in an 
appearance till they heard that Katsu, Hanaé’s elder brother, was 
attending, when two or three of them came. ‘Thus the small 
meeting-house, which up to then had only been frequented by 
old ragpickers who could not read the Scriptures, suddenly be- 
came very animated, to Eiichi’s extreme delight. 

On the evening of the 18th of October, moreover, Eiichi 
made a convert at his open-air meeting. “This was a bean-curd 
seller who, by heavy drinking and profligacy, had lost all confi- 
dence and was on the verge of committing suicide. He com- 
menced coming to the services, which, in consequence, suddenly 
grew very lively. 

The name of the bean-curd seller was Yosagoro Machida. 
He had himself made eight armed attacks on other people and 
had been attacked by others thirteen times, with the result that 
one of his eyes had been gouged out. He had changed his wife 
seven times and his business he did not know how many times, 
so that he was well acquainted with all the ups and downs of 
life. He was a very amusing and ready speaker and the day after 
his conversion he gave an address at the open-air meeting which 
was so interesting that the audience demanded more. He also 
appealed to the young people, who were very fond of him and 
eagerly listened to his reminiscences and to his attacks on society. 
He had some experience of speculation and he was especially 
clever in describing the mood of the speculator. Whenever he 
finished speaking there was certain to be a group gathered round 
him to gossip. 

‘The gatherings of the young men in the slums brought an- 


346 - BEFORE THE DAWN 


other matter to Eiichi’s attention, and that was the Labour ques- 
tion, which greatly exercised them. All the young men who 
met at Ejichi’s place knew very well what was the condition of 
the factories in the neighbourhood. Katsunosuké was employed 
in the match factory. Motoyama, who came with Takeda, was 
engaged in the manufacture of shell buttons, but up to only two 
or three months before he had been working with the Pacific 
Rubber Company. Asada had been in the employ of the Premier 
Cycle Company and knew the conditions there. ‘The talk about 
the match company and the rubber company showed that the 
worst conditions prevailed there, but nevertheless crowds of more 
than fifty or sixty men assembled in front of the Pacific Rubber 
Company every morning, seeking employment, and even when 
there was only one man wanted the crowd often reached to 
nearly a hundred. 

After all the trouble taken to get employment there, how- 
ever, two days’ work saw them at the end of their endurance, 
and as most of them were unable to stand a week of it they were 
made to sign an agreement on entering that if they left before 
the end of a week they would lose their pay. 

Eiichi felt that, however much assistance he gave to the people 
in the slums, unless he was able to secure a radical change in 
their treatment his efforts were useless, and he took great pains 
to ascertain what was the best course to take. Among the young 
men he laid emphasis on the importance of forming Labour 
Unions, but there were no facilities for forming Labour Unions 
and time passed and nothing was done. 

Meanwhile many people continued to come to Eiichi for 
assistance. Among them was a man with a fine beard who 
passed as a priest and went round the streets begging alms. He 
knew Uchiyama very well and joined the Chnstian community, 
while spending his days in making ear-picks. He was known in 
the slums as “Higé.” He brought a friend with him,—a 
gardener named Toda,—to join the church. ‘This gardener, who 
had four children, had once been a builder’s assistant, but had 
become a gardener through love of gardening. In the summer 
he went to gather herbs on the hills and sold them at the night- 
fair at Sannomiya Shrine. 

At the end of October, as trade was dull, there were many 
applications to Eiichi for assistance, and among them was a man 


KOHIDE 347 


known as “‘Ukarebushi” Ichiko. ‘This man had killed his wife 
by striking her with a wooden pillow. He was a round fat man 
of a sallow complexion. He came to Eiichi because he was 
suffering from syphilitic rheumatism and could not work. En1ichi 
took him in. 

In the same way, at the end of October, a man came to Eiichi 
for assistance as he had no work and was in need of money. He 
said that he was the son of a brothel-keeper at Nagasaki and 
that he had been a teacher of fencing and also a policeman. 
Then a week later a tall man named Hida, some six feet in 
height, who had received a communication from Yanasé, the 
son of the brothel-keeper, came and asked Ejichi for assistance. 
He said that he had been a policeman in Formosa. ‘Thus the 
family increased to ten,—Eiichi, the old couple named Kishi- 
moto, Matsuzo, Izu, Sanko, Higé, “Ukarebushi”’ Ichiko, and 
the two policemen. 

Fastidious old Kishimoto got up every morning at four o’clock 
to cook the rice, going back to bed again at five to wait for the 
others to get up. He had a passion for cleaning and was for- 
ever sweeping the entrance. Of course he kept the inside of 
the house neat too, but to sweep the mud off the door-step was 
his special craze, and he would do it three or four times a day, 
until it became a legend in the neighbourhood. 

Matsuzo went to the elementary school. As he was the big- 
gest in the class he was the leader in all sorts of mischief and 
was often kept in by his teacher. He was often marched off to 
the police station also. On all these occasions Eiichi used to 
scold him in a loud voice. Eiichi only spoke in a loud voice 
when he was preaching and when he was scolding Matsuzo, old 
Mrs. Kishimoto used to say. Matsuzo would not have thought 
he was being scolded unless the scolding was done in a loud 
voice—(people in the slums always speak loudly)—and Eiichi 
intentionally scolded loudly, even to straining his voice. Matsuzo 
himself once said to Eiichi that he was not afraid of Eiichi’s 
scolding, but he was afraid of Etichi’s loud voice. 

The two policemen got employment at the Premier Works in 
polishing bicycle rims. 

Eiichi had now become accustomed to life in the slums. He 
even began to feel that he was growing unmannerly. In calling 
Matsuzo he just shouted “Matsu,” and when he was scolding 


348 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Ukarebushi” Ichiko, instead of using the polite form, he just 
shouted “Ichi,” quite unconcernedly. Eiichi was alarmed and 
was seized with contempt for himself that he should become so 
proud just because he was the most learned man in the slums and 
had money and was looked up to. He felt that the longer he 
lived in the slums the more he would suffer from nervous debility 
and the more conceited he would become. But as he could not 
take any holiday he did not know what to do. He knew that 
one reason was that he had so much to do that his mind was 
never at rest. In the slums he was never able to arrange his 
time. If he had anything to do he wanted to do it at once. He 
must become a man with nothing to do. 

Everybody in the slums,—all the young people who had joined 
his church,—wanted to talk with him, and if Eiichi had yielded 
to them he would have had no time for reading or thinking. 
He had to excuse himself unwillingly, therefore, whereupon 
they said that he was like a foreigner. He thus began to feel 
that he was somehow isolated. 

In whatever they do the people at Shinkawa are very leisurely. 
They would talk to Eiichi for one or two hours at a time, repeat- 
ing the same thing over and over again. Elichi would hear the 
gist of their story and tell them he understood, but this did not 
satisfy them. It only made them grumble about the teacher 
being in such a hurry. Eiichi felt that he must give up reading 
and all nourishment for his mind, and was troubled. 

Eiichi had now forgotten all about love for nearly a year. 
One reason was that he had no opportunity of meeting any 
pretty women, and another was his private belief that it would 
prevent his performing miracles. He had become an ascetic for 
the purpose of developing the power of performing miracles. 
His flow of energy was wonderful even to himself. He was 
astonished that he could display so much energy considering that 
he was a vegetarian. 

Sometimes he felt rather proud of his self-control, but at other 
times he felt that his passions were withered and that he had 
become inanimate. He had forgotten all the past. He thought 
that he was as translucent as a silkworm. He was like a moun- 
tain hermit who had descended on the slums. He even came to 
the point of wondering whether, if circumstances compelled him, 
he could not utilise the art of making oneself invisible in broad 


KOHIDE 349 


daylight and so ascend to heaven. But then he thought that he 
did not want to make a daylight ascension. Of course he was no 
longer afraid of death. He had almost come to believe that his 
body was sword-proof. Whenever there was a quarrel he rushed 
to the scene to act as mediator, and no matter how violent the 
quarrel was, whenever he appeared on the scene they all ceased 
quarrelling out of respect for him. 

It was about this time that Shinoda suddenly came to visit 
him and, with all his old swagger, said that he had come to take 
Eiichi to the Higashi Tokiwa, the well-known restaurant at 
Suwayama, to give hima treat. As Eiichi was longing for some 
sort of change he went with Shinoda. 

Shinoda told him that as he had received great favours from 
Eiichi in the past, and as he had been successful in a plantation 
in Korea, he would like to make a slight contribution towards 
Eiichi’s work, whereupon he handed Eiichi two hundred yen, in 
addition to the hundred yen he had borrowed from him long ago. 

Eiichi simply said “Thank you” in taking it and Shinoda re- 
marked on his curtness. 

“‘As I can make effective use of the money it doesn’t matter 
whether it’s two hundred yen or three hundred yen,” said Eiichi. 
“Tl spend it for you.” 

The room was a large one and commanded a wide view over 
Kobé. All sorts of nice things to eat were brought in. 

“Shall I call Kohidé?” asked Shinoda abruptly. 

Eiichi begged to be excused, but Shinoda said that it would 
be amusing and that he should like to see Eiichi’s embarrassment. 
Apparently he wanted to enjoy Ejichi’s embarrassment, and he 
took his plump form off down the passage on his way to the 
telephone. 

Kobé was being quietly enveloped in the evening twilight. 
‘The autumn air was very clear and the electric lights in the 
streets shone brightly. Eiichi could see the slums at Shinkawa, 
the harbour works, the big cranes at the Kawasaki Shipbuilding 
Yard, and away off to Hyogo, to the Mitsubishi Shipbuilding 
Yard and the chimneys of the Kanegafuchi Spinning Mill. 
From Wada Point to Takatori and Suma,—all was visible. 

Shinoda came back along the passage. 

“She’s coming,—Kohidé,” he said. “When I told her you 
were here she said it was very strange.” 


350 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Eiichi asked Shinoda how he knew that he was acquainted 
with Kohidé, and learnt that when Shinoda came back from 
Korea he had heard about it. 

Ejichi felt as if an old wound was being re-opened. Shinoda 
began talking about various enterprises for making money and 
Eiichi asked him many questions about them. 

“You don’t care for business, do you?” said Shinoda, and 
Eiichi dismissed it as “Useless.” 

“Yes, I suppose it seems so to persons who are not avaricious, 
like you,” said Shinoda. 

“T am avaricious,” said Eiichi—“too avaricious.” 

“Really?” said Shinoda. ‘Perhaps you are.” 

When the dinner came Shinoda was perplexed by Eiichi’s 
announcement that he was a vegetarian. The waitress, a middle- 
aged woman, said jokingly that Eiichi must be a priest. 

“Then I suppose you don’t drink either?” said Shinoda. 

“No,” said Enichi. 

“You’re very strict,” said Shinoda. 

“TPs not that,” said Eiichi. ‘It’s because I don’t care about 
it. The only thing that amuses me is playing with the children 
of the poor.” 

Then Shinoda began chaffing Eiichi and called for a bottle of 
champagne cider for him while he himself drank wine. “T get 
too fat if I drink saké,” he explained. 

Ejichi did not turn the conversation to religious topics. He 
only talked about the beauty of the view and the excellence of 
the repast. 

“Don’t you think Kohidé’s very beautiful?” asked Shinoda 
abruptly. | 

“Yes I think she is very beautiful,” said Eiichi. 

“Then you're not an ascetic after all?” 

“Certainly not.” 

“Kohidé says that you were disappointed in love.” 

“Kohidé says so? I?” 

“She says she loves you because you were disappointed.” 

“Stop your chaffing. I am not the person I was. As a 
Christian disciple I have forgotten love and sensual pleasures.” 

“Then I suppose you’d refuse to make Kohidé your wife if 
she made you a proposal? Have you the power to refuse 
her?” 


KOHIDE 351 


“Don’t be afraid,” said Eiichi. “I am strong enough to put 
love on one side.” 

After that they were both silent for some time. 

Eiichi looked thoughtful. “The room was quiet and the quiet- 
ness pleased him immensely. From morning to night in the 
slums and at the office he lived in a turmoil and he had often 
longed for quietness like that. Thanks to a friend he could now 
enjoy quietness. He thought that he would like to remain silent 
as long as possible,—to the point of making Shinoda angry. 
He was not thinking of anything; his mind remained like a sheet 
of blank paper. Nor was he looking at anything; he merely 
sat breathing quietly. He felt very happy sitting there and he 
did not want to eat or drink—only to be quiet. 

‘The waitress, who had also been silent for some time, thought 
that they should be more lively. 

“You ain’t come here to practise religion, have you?” she 
asked. “Can’t you be a little merry?” 

“Oh, don’t trouble about us,” said Shinoda. ‘““There’s a beau- 
tiful girl coming soon and then the gentleman here will be 
lively enough.” 

Eiichi laughed unconcernedly. 

Just then they heard Kohidé’s voice in the passage: she was 
talking to the maid who was showing her the way. 

“There, Mr. Niimi, she’s come,” said Shinoda,—“the girl 
who’s been pining for you.” 

‘The waitress ran to the sliding screen and opened it. 

“Will ye please enter,” she said, bowing. 

Kohidé knelt at the entrance and bowed. 

“‘T’m afraid I’m late,” she said. 

Advancing to where they were seated she again bowed respect- 
fully. She looked very beautiful, with her hair done in a grace- 
ful chignon and with the flowing skirts of her bright-patterned 
silk dress. Ejtichi thought it was no wonder that men become 
dissipated. 

As she sat down between them she filled Shinoda’s glass with 
wine. 

“How long it is since ve seen you, Mr. Niimi,’ 
“How many years is it?” 

“Well, Pve really forgotten,” said Eiichi. 


“You've got thinner. Has anything been the matter?” 


> she said. 


352 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“He lives in the slums,” said Shinoda. “I’ve been to pay 
him a visit in the slums to-day and it’s an awful place, really. 
You go and see him. It will teach you something. Mr. Numi 
lives with the poor and helps them. It’s really astonishing. 1 
couldn’t do it.” 

“Oh, I heard something about it from a newspaper man,” 
said Kohidé. “I should really like to see. Can I come, Mr. 
‘ Niimi,—a person like me?” 

“But you couldn’t go like that.” : 

“Oh, of course I should put on an ordinary dress. I should 
like to see.” 

“You'd defile his abode if you went there,” said Shinoda. 

“Do be quiet, Mr. Shinoda. Can I come, Mr. Niimi?”’ 

“Yes, come along,” said Eiichi. 

“O-ho, Mr. Niimi,” said Shinoda. “You don’t drink saké 
and you don’t eat fish and meat. It’s only women you care about, 
eh? You're a strange disciple.” 

“Really, doesn’t Mr. Niimi drink saké or eat fish?” said 
Kohidé. ‘How changed he is.” 

“FTe’s become a Christian,” said Shinoda. 

“So I heard,” said Kohidé. “I heard that he was preaching 
in Moto-machi. He has changed.” 

“No, I haven’t changed very much,” said Eiichi. 

“What's become of that person?” asked Kohidé. 

“Who's that person!” said E1ichi. 

“That person! Don’t mock me like that, Mr. Niimi,” and 
Kohidé showed signs of shyness while her face became crimson. 

“Oh, the person at Hiroshima?”’ said Enichi. 

“Yes what’s become of her?” 

“Tt’s all finished.” 

“Ts she still at Hiroshima?” : 

“No, she’s gone into the country at Tokushima,—teacher in 
an elementary school probably. I don’t get any news of her so 
I don’t know what she’s doing.” 

“There you are, Kohidé,” said Shinoda. “That’s why I was 
telling him that you wanted to marry him.” 

“Oh, did you?” said Kohidé. “How kind of you!” 

“You were very earnest about it the other day when you said 
it, weren’t you?” said Shinoda. “Now you can make him a 
direct proposal.” 


KOHIDE 353 


Kohidé laughed shyly and expostulated. 

“Then it was a story you told me the other day?” said Shinoda. 

“There’s no reason why Mr. Niimi should marry a person 
like me,” said Kohidé. 

“Oh, that doesn’t matter,” said Shinoda. “Suppose you try it.” 

Shinoda said this so comically that he made them all laugh. 
Kohidé was very lively that evening for some reason,—a change 
from her usual manner. 

“Mr. Niimi,” she said archly, as she filled Shinoda’s glass, 
“will you have me for your wife?” 

“That’s it, that’s it,” said Shinoda. “You go for him.” 

‘Are you in earnest?” asked Ejichi. 

“Of course I am,” said Kohidé, and she suddenly became 
grave and looked at Eiichi with wide-opened eyes. 

But Ejjichi had heard too much of sexual depravity in the slums 
to be moved. 

“111 think it over,” he said carelessly. 

“Tove on one side only is no use,” said Kohidé. 

“Don’t fall in love with me,” said Eiichi quietly. “You'll 
have to be an ascetic to love me.” 

“There,” said Kohidé. ‘‘What can I do to become your 
wife?” 

“Well, you’d have to live in the slums.” 

“Oh, that’s nothing,” said Kohidé. “I was poor before and it 
won’t be hard for me to become poor again. I would live with 
a beggar if I loved him.” 

“What devotion!” said Eiichi. 

“Tsn’t that right, Mr. Shinoda? Ain’t I in earnest? Mr. 
Niimi, perhaps you won’t have me because I’m a geisha. Isn’t it 
so? Yes, I’m sure it is. You’re so good and you're afraid to 
be defiled.” 

“What earnestness!” said Eiichi. 

“Don’t joke, Mr. Niimi. I am in earnest,” said Kohidé, and 
indeed her whole soul was in the appeal. 

Shinoda smoked a cigarette and listened with an amused air. 

“T’l] be honest with you, Kohidé,” said Eiichi. “I don’t like 
people who don’t work.” 

“But I will work if you’ll take me,” said Kohidé. “T’ll work 
myself to the bone. You know the other day a university 
student—lInoué was his name, I think—married a Shimbashi 


354 BEFORE THE DAWN 


geisha in Tokyo named Kuzuha. I’ve got as much courage as 
Kuzuha.” 

From her words Eiichi was able to read Kohidé’s heart a little. 
He knew from what she said that Shinoda had arranged the 
scene, which was like one in a theatre. Enichi drew back and 
leant against the screens behind him. 

Kohidé received a cigarette from Shinoda and began to smoke 
it. Eiichi thought it was funny that a woman who could say 
such things should yet blow the smoke through her nostrils, and 
he idly watched the wreaths of blue smoke till they disappeared 
at the ceiling. Outside all was silent. Only over Shinkaichi 
and Sannomiya was the sky lit up. Inside, in the large room, 
the electric lights seemed dull and there were clouds of tobacco 
smoke, making him feel stifled. 

Suddenly Eiichi felt called upon to stand up. 

“TI must say good-bye now, Mr. Shinoda,” he said. ‘“Thank 
you for your entertainment. Good-bye, Kohidé, I must be going 
now,” and he started to leave. 

“Don’t be in a hurry,” said Shinoda. “Let’s have some more 
talk. If you go now you'll cut it short. Your talk with Kohidé 
was awfully interesting to me. Won’t you go on?” 

“No, Pve got some business,” said Eiichi, “It’s eight o’clock, 
isn’t it?” 

“No, it’s only half-past seven,” said Shinoda. “It’s early 

et.” 

“You mustn’t go yet, Mr. Niimi,” said Kohidé. “I haven’t 
finished my talk with you yet.” 

But Ejichi insisted sulkily that he was going. Even the 
waitress tried to detaih him, but finally Shinoda and Kohidé, 
not knowing what else to do, allowed him to depart. 

When he returned home from the Higashi Tokiwa it was 
yet early and he at once went to Nakamichi-suji alone and com- 
menced preaching. ‘The thought of the three hundred yen 
which Shinoda had given him was forgotten. Kohidé’s love 
story was forgotten, and Eiichi, with all his heart and soul, pas- 
sionately preached the Gospel of Christ. 


eS a 


CHAPTER LIlI 
Kohidé in the Slums 
KM KKRKRMKMKRKKKKHKRARR 


Pr AHE next afternoon Shinoda came to the insurance office 
and told Eiichi why Kohidé had got so excited, which 
was because Shinoda had offered beforehand to guar- 

antee her ransom and pay all her bills. Eiichi then suddenly 
understood what had happened. Shinoda had wished to do some- 
thing in return for Eiichi’s kindness, and it was his intention to 
assist Eiichi to a wife. It was this that had prompted Kohidé 
to make the proposal. 

Eiichi felt deeply grateful to Shinoda for his kindness, and 
Shinoda spoke in very high terms of Eiichi’s work and promised 
to help him in every way he could. He also told Eiichi contritely 
that he had turned over a new leaf and that his wife and child 
were now restored to health. 

Ejichi did not think much about Kohidé. As before he con- 
tinued to sleep with the gamin Matsuzo and to pass his days in 
forgetfulness of love and passion. 

Three days after he had met Kohidé a long letter came from 
her. Contrary to Ejichi’s expectation she was quite in earnest 
and repeated in the letter all she had told him that evening. In 
reply Eiichi sent her only the following poem: 


I forbid any one to love me, for I am the child of God, the 
child of liberty, and will not be bound in the chains of love. 
Break not through my fence,—the fence that surrounds the altar 
to God erected within my breast; destroy not my liberty 
therein. 
Maidens, do not love me: what is the use of love without lib- 
erty? what can you do with sorrowful love? | 
I have made a vow that till the day of liberty comes I shall not 
be bound by the chains of eg 
3 


356 BEFORE THE DAWN 


When Eiichi went out into the alley with the intention of 
posting the poem a feeling of pity overwhelmed him. He 
thought that he would like to be loved by a woman, and he 
felt that it was only his obstinacy that made him reject the strong 
passion of Kohidé,—the beautiful Kohidé, with her large shin- 
ing eyes, rosy complexion and wonderful hair, who stood with 
her arms open to receive him. At such moments he thought he 
could smell the scent and the musk which she used. He felt 
that he was denying his own manhood, and he could not put 
aside the thought of how delicious it must be to be loved by a 
beautiful woman. At other moments he could not but be op- 
pressed with anxiety as to Kohidé’s real character. He himself 
was a consumptive and what fate had in store for him in the 
future he did not know. He did not deny love and he felt it 
was contradictory of him therefore to deny sexual intercourse 
and reproduction. 

He was astonished at his own strength of mind when he put 
the letter into the post, but there was no doubt that after he had 
put it in he began to wonder what sort of answer he would get. 
Shinoda must be trying to draw him to Kohidé again, he thought. 
Into what a world of temptation had he come,—throwing into 
confusion the hallowed sanctuary in which he had spent a year 
and a half undisturbed. 

It was not that he thought he had been deserted by God. It 
was rather that he could not consistently embrace the love he 
ought to embrace and was plunged into a world of anxiety. 
He wished to live with beauty. But while he wished to asso- 
ciate with Kohidé he felt the contradictoriness of the whole 
thing while he was himself the companion of ugliness, the dis- 
ciple of one kimono, the martyr of a life from which beauty 
had been driven out. If he were to desire beauty and to live 
with beautiful persons he would have to change his whole con- 
dition of life. From a life where one thought nothing of 
sleeping with lepers, he would, at the least, have to remove to 
a place suitable for beauty,—to a world where beauty could be 
appreciated. “Thus was Eiichi torn between beauty and righteous- 
ness. ‘Tormented by anxiety,—wondering whether her answer 
would come to-day or to-morrow morning,—he decided that if 
Kohidé loved him so madly he would be guided by the strength 


of her love. 


KOHIDE IN THE SLUMS 357 


However, Kohidé did not show him the strength of her love. 
Two weeks passed without his receiving any news from her. 

In the meantime he was very busy arranging all sorts of things 
arising from his decision to resign from the insurance company 
and devote himself to relief work in the slums. As to his reasons 
for this, for one thing he had received three hundred yen from 
Shinoda. But another and stronger reason was that Dr. Williams 
had acted as guide through the slums to an American from 
Georgia,—the director of a brick manufacturing company and 
a very strong believer, who had come out to make an inspection 
of missions in the Orient. He had been greatly struck with 
Ejichi’s work and had promised that when he returned to Amer- 
ica he would guarantee Eiichi the sum of fifty dollars a month 
for the period of two years. 

Ejiichi had determined to do his best to assist the poor, as this 
had now become his life-work, and for the sake of the children 
in the slums he thought first of all that he would like to publish 
some illustrated stories from the Bible. 

So on the 17th of November he resigned from the insurance 
company. The first thing he did was to purchase at a second- 
hand shop a desk for thirty sen and a chair which cost twenty 
sen more than the desk, though it was not a comfortable chair to 
sit on. He wished to work—as diligently as he had done at the 
insurance office—at writing stories from the Bible, and he chose 
first the story of the friendship of David and Jonathan. 
Although his work did not come up to his expectations, never- 
theless he was much happier than he was when writing figures 
at the insurance office. 

Being all day in the slums and seeing what was going on, he 
found that there were all sorts of things happening. ‘“Ukare- 
bushi” Matsuko stole a quilt and pawned it and was arrested. 
Ejiichi knew nothing about it till a detective came from the police 
station and told him. Eiichi went to the police station and Mat- 
suko was brought out of the cell and allowed to go home on the 
entreaty of Eiichi. Then the gamin Matsuzo stole some tele= 
graph wire and sold it to a secondhand dealer. Eiichi being in- 
formed of this by a detective had to go to the police-box where 
Matsuzo had been arrested and get the policeman to release him. 
The two ex-policemen, Yanasé and Hida, who worked at the 
Premier Cycle Works, on the evening of their first pay-day were 


358 BEFORE THE DAWN 


very good, Eiichi thought, but on the next day it appeared that 
they had gone out to a brothel, for they did not come back till 
two o'clock in the morning. On the 17th of November, they 
came home with a girl who was sent by the eating-house in 
Naka-machi with a request for settlement of the bill, which 
came to five yen and seventy-two sen, and Eiichi had to pay it. 

Yoshida, who lived opposite, brought home a woman with a 
swollen, pasty face whom he had picked up somewhere, and 
made her his wife. But after five days she ran away and went 
to the house of a man named Yagi, who acted as a pimp for 
street-walkers. Yagi’s wife, however, would not help her and 
she came to Eiichi for assistance. Eiichi would have taken her 
into his house, but Yoshida still hankered after her and came 
round drunk every evening, acting like a beast, so that Eiichi 
found it impossible to keep her. But he made her an allowance 
of rice every day. 

It was now November and every day there were cases of 
people falling down exhausted in the street. Each time, even 
when it was a long way off, somebody came to inform Eiichi. 
Of course he could not take in all these people, and when he 
communicated with the City Hall about them, the City: authori- 
ties always referred him to the police, while the police referred 
him back to the City Hall. The result was that the people 
generally died in the street. When they were dead the City 
Hall was quite willing to take charge of them, which caused 
Etichi to make the sarcastic comment that the Kobé City authori- 
ties would not help people when they were alive and treated them 
as a nuisance, but immediately they were dead they became 
very obliging. 

Moreover, when the City Hall did help such persons they soon 
ran away. ‘The City authorities had no poor-house, but allowed 
sixteen sen a day to a charitable organisation called the Guardian 
Society for each sick person placed under its care. As the 
charitable organisation had an orphanage to maintain and an 
infirmary for old people, besides relief to the poor, however they 
tried to economise expenses, they could not keep sick persons on 
sixteen sen a day. 

Eiichi was surprised at the number of people who ran away 
from the society’s home, and went to see it for himself. He 
found that the society had been granted the use of an old school 


KOHIDE IN THE SLUMS 359 


building situated under the embankment of the Minatogawa, and 
that six or seven sick persons were stuffed into one room of six 
mats. ‘They had five or six rooms like that. Moreover, Enichi 
happened to pay his visit at the time of the midday meal and 
he found that the food served was quite unsuitable for sick 
persons. Eiichi departed in disgust, reviling the charitable en- 
terprises of the capitalists. Returning to the slums he at once 
made arrangements to take an empty house which stood at the 
end of the lane on the opposite side to his, in which to provide 
for sick people. He arranged that the sick persons should have 
a room each and as there were only two rooms he was only able 
to accommodate two. His first patient was a pilgrim beggar 
from Shikoku named Uno, who was suffering from beri-beri, 
but had run away from the Municipal Hospital at Minatogawa. 
He was a silent man of about fifty with a refined air. ‘The 
patient in the back room was “Ojitabero’s” former wife, called 
“Umé the Devil,” and her child Masaichi. She had received the 
name on account of her horribly emaciated face and her long 
eye-teeth, which made her look like a she-devil. Owing to ill- 
ness—she was in the tertiary stage of syphilis—she was unable 
to go out as a beggar. Eiichi found her lying in front of an 
eating-house in Azuma-dori and carried her home on his back. 

These were not the only ones that came to him for relief 
whom he did not turn away. Toda, the gardener, abandoned 
his wife and four children and went off with another woman. 
Eiichi thus found himself obliged to take them all into his 
house, which became very lively. Mrs. Toda, who was still 
young, deposited the baby in a tub while she spun flax, which gave 
a family air to the house, and the crying of the baby kept them 
all very busy. 

Meantime two weeks had elapsed since he had sent the poem 
to Kohidé. Then she suddenly arrived in a jinrikisha. She had 
on a good, black silk cloak and had her hair done in simple 
fashion, and when she first entered the alley Eiichi wondered 
who the lady could be. 

Fjichi was out in the alley at the time playing with Toda’s 
baby, which he was tossing up, up to the sky, ever so far. It 
was about two o’clock on a beautiful afternoon, with a clear 
autumn sky, and the sun shining brightly into every corner of the 
alley very cheerfully. 


360 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Oh,” cried Eiichi, when he caught sight of Kohidé, “I am 
glad to see you,” and indeed he felt glad to welcome her. “I 
hardly thought you'd dare to come,” he added. ‘How bold you 
are!” 

“I? Well, I’ve got spirit enough for that,” replied Kohidé. 

Kohidé took a parcel from the jinrikishaman who was follow- 
ing her and told him to wait, and the jinrikishaman, wiping the 
sweat from his forehead, went back along the alley. 

Eiichi called Mrs. Toda and got her to take the baby, after 
which he conducted Kohidé to the large seventeen-mat room. 

Kohidé seated herself on the rickety chair. 

“Is that your baby?” she asked. 3 

“Oh, no,” replied Eiichi. ‘“‘That’s Mrs. Toda’s baby. She 
and her four children live with me. The father went off with 
another woman,—he was a gardener.” 

“Oh,” laughed Kohidé, “I thought it was your child, it looked 
such a darling.” 

“I suppose you were a bit startled at first?” 

“Yes, I was really quite startled, especially as I thought that 
you had no wife and child.” 

“Well, ’'m glad you’ve come, at any rate.” 

Eiichi called old Mrs. Kishimoto and told her to bring in some 
tea, but Mrs. Toda brought it in of her own accord. Some chil- 
dren who wanted to see Kohidé were peeping into the room from 
the alley. 

“A peach! A peach!” cried the unabashed Tako, and all the 
other little children commenced to imitate him, crying, “A 
peach! <A peach!” 

Kohidé laughed when she heard them. 

“It embarrasses me to have them all staring at me,” she said. 

“Yes, but what can we do?” said Eiichi. 

“Don’t you have any doors? Don’t you ever close the doors?” 

“Oh, no, we never close up. If thieves want to come in 
they are quite at liberty to do so.” 

“Don’t thieves ever come?” 

\\“Sometimes they do, but we never inform the police.” — 
\f‘Really? I suppose if we were all as good as you are we 
should do the same.” 

“Oh, if you’ve got money and clothes there’s a fear of their 


KOHIDE IN THE SLUMS 361 


being taken, but there’s nothing to be afraid of if you’ve only 
got the kimono you go about in and nothing else to take.” 

Kohidé caught sight of some twelve or thirteen children peep- 
ing through the glass sliding-doors. 

“T bought some cakes for the children in the neighbourhood,” 
she said, and she took out of a big cake-box, holding some three 
or four pounds, some star-shaped biscuits covered with sugar. 
Opening the glass-doors she gave one to each of the children. 
‘The children received the cakes and went running off, and 
almost before there seemed time for them to have got home a 
crowd of thirty or forty children had collected. 

“Teacher, teacher, give us some cake,” 

‘““Teacher, teacher, give us some biscuits.” 

Kohidé was startled at the number of children and even 
Eiichi was astonished that their number should have increased 
so rapidly. Kohidé’s biscuits were soon exhausted. 

“Good gracious! ‘There isn’t any more,” she said regret- 
fully. ‘Please change some money for me,” she added, turning 
round to Ejichi. “T’ll give the children two sen each.” 

But Eiichi stopped her. 

“Don’t give them any money,” he said. “It has a bad effect 
on them.” 

Kohidé was like a queen among them, which pleased her. 

“‘Are the slums very large?” she asked. “‘Are these the 
slums? If these are the slums I shouldn’t mind coming to live 
here at all.” 

“Have you the courage to live in the slums?” Eiichi asked. 
*“There’s lots of bugs.” 

“Bugs? I don’t like bugs. Not that Pve ever seen any for 
that matter. What are they like?” 

“Well, if you'd been a little earlier you’d have seen plenty of 
them. In the summer nights you can catch fifty or sixty of them 
in a night.” 

“Gracious! ‘They must be a nuisance. I’d rather be excused 
the bugs. I’m afraid I couldn’t come to live in the slums.” 

After that Eiichi guided Kohidé round the slums. As the 
beautiful Kohidé went past, women and old people popped their 
heads out of the doors in the alleys to see the strange sight, 
and examined Kohidé’s face very intently. Thirty or forty chil- 


362 BEFORE THE DAWN 


dren followed them. Some ten of the children collected round 
Eiichi, some of them holding his hand and some of them cling- 
ing to the sleeves of his kimono. Not content with that one of 
them went so far as to cling to Kohidé’s fine black silk cloak 
with his dirty hands, causing Kohidé some embarrassment. 
Kohidé looked at Eiichi appealingly. 

“Don’t catch hold of the lady’s sleeve,” said Eiichi to the 
child. “Your little paws are dirty, you know,” whereupon the 
child clung to Eiichi’s skirt. Eiichi gave it the end of his girdle 
to hold. 

_ As Eiichi and Kohidé, attended by a band of forty or fifty 
children, went round the slums in procession, the people who 
knew Eiichi greeted him. 

Among the two-mat rooms they met the fat beggar-woman 
Haru with a baby on her back. 

“Master’s got a fine girl to-day,” she said. ‘“Ain’t that nice? 
Is she your wife, master?” she asked boldly, right in front of 
Kohidé. 

“No, I haven’t any wife yet,” said Eiichi. 

“Why don’t you make this fine-looking girl your wife, 
master?” said Haru. 

Kohidé pretended not to hear and chucked under the chin the 
little baby Haru was carrying while she cooed to it. She showed 
that she was quite used to children, a fact which impressed 
Eiichi. 

After they had been round the slums Kohidé was shocked and 
said that she could not live there for a day even. She was still 
more shocked when Eiichi told her that there were eleven thou- 
sand poor people living in those slums. 

Kohidé seemed discouraged and said that she was going 
home. But just then there was a sound of scurrying feet in the 
lane at the back, which suddenly became very lively. Then there 
came a sound of feet running over the leads of Ejichi’s wash- 
house and all the children ran off in that direction, while 
Hayashi came rushing into the house to Kohidé’s astonishment. 

“Master,” cried Hayashi, “‘there’s a trap. Hide me.” 

Eiichi was silent, but Hayashi pulled out a quilt from the 
pile which had been neatly folded by old Kishimoto, and spread- 
ing it as though for a sick person, quickly got under it. 

Two or three detectives in disguise peeped into Ejiichi’s room. 


KOHIDE IN THE SLUMS 363 


“T thought one of ’em came in here,” said one. 

“This is a Christian place,” said another, and they soon went 
off. 

“I’m afraid,” said Kohidé in a low voice. “What is it, Mr. 
Niimi?”’ 

““They’ve set a trap for gamblers,” he replied. 

The two sat silent for a time listening to the talk at the back 
and in front of the house, which was really very amusing. ‘They 
were talking about who had escaped and who had got away over 
the leads, and who it was that had jumped so bravely from one 
roof to another. It appeared that although the trap had fallen 
no one had been caught. 

Hayashi heard the talk from under the quilt and put out his 
head like a tortoise. 

“My! That was a narrow squeak,” he said. “A little more 
and they'd ’a’ had me. You saved me that time, master. I was 
a little slow in shoving off,—in fact I was the last to leave. You 
saved me all right. I thought I was in for three or four months 
of jail.” 

He crawled out of the quilt and, mingling with the crowd 
outside, told the story of his escape. 

“I’m going now,” said Kohidé. “I’m afraid.” 

She went out into the alley and the fourteen or fifteen per- 
sons standing in front of Hanaé’s house next door all stared at 
her, as she disappeared down the alley dejectedly. 

Two days after Kohidé’s visit, in the evening, Eiichi had an 
unexpected visit from Mr. Shinji Otonashi, just at the time when 
the drunken Yoshida opposite was making a row in the alley. 

Eiichi was just then wanting some one to talk to and he wel- 
comed Otonashi as an interesting visitor. Yoshida was still 
grumbling in the alley, and looking out Eiichi saw that he was 
not alone. Two well-dressed gentlemen were also standing out- 
side the house. Eiichi thought that they were two friends of 
Otonashi’s and asked them to come in, with an apology for the 
poverty of the accommodation. 

“Don’t,” said Otonashi. ‘Those chaps are spies. They fol- 
low me round wherever I go.... Mr. Niimi, excuse my 
abruptness, but I came to ask you to do something for me. You 
assist people, don’t you?” 

“Yes, yes, for you certainly.” 


364 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Thank you.” 

Otonashi was dressed as a clergyman of the English Church. 
He had on a collar that stood up all round and his waistcoat 
went right up to his collar so that you could only see a little bit 
of white in front. He was of a genial disposition, with a round, 
pink face. His hair, however, was not in accord with his dress, 
for he wore it long like a poet and it hung down over his collar 
behind. 

“Well, it’s like this,” went on Otonashi. ‘There’s a man 
who’s in trouble over the O. affair.” * 

Eiichi did not at first understand what Otonashi meant by the 
O. affair, but he soon remembered that there had recently been 
considerable talk in the papers about the relations of O. of Shingu 
with the affair. 

“He’s a man named Takami,” said Otonashi, “and as he’s 
a relation of O.’s they’ve asked him to resign his position as 
teacher in the elementary school. It’s impossible for him to earn 
his living in the district and he’s in trouble. We want to send 
him to a theological seminary,—he’s a member of my church. 
He intends to leave Shingu soon. Could you help him?” 

“I suppose he won’t object to stopping in this noisy place,” 
said Ejichi. 

“Oh, no, that would be splendid. It would be an education 
for him. . . . But haven’t you had any spies follow you since 
you came to live here?” 

*“No, none at all.” 

“That’s strange.” | 

“What did you come from Shingu for? Only about this 
business?” | 

“No, I came about some business for O.’s wife and some 
other things. Well, I’m glad you’ll help him. It’s taken a load 
of anxiety off my mind. I was wondering what I should do 
with him. I am glad.” 

Eiichi and Otonashi had been friends in their Meiji Gakuin 
days. Otonashi, however, had been twelve or thirteen years older 


* The reference is to the charge of high treason brought in 1910 
against Kotoku, a well-known Socialist, Dr. Oishi of Shingu, and 
twenty-four others. They were all condemned to death, but the sen- 
tence was commuted to imprisonment in the case of twelve. Kotoku 
and Oishi were among those executed. 


| 
: 
: 
q 
: 
: 


KOHIDE IN THE SLUMS 365 


than Ejjichi and had been the director of an orphanage, the presi- 
dent of a newspaper company and the principal of an elementary 
school in the course of his career. After that he went in for a 
special course at a theological seminary. As he was so much 
older than Eiichi their intimacy did not become very profound, 
but they went for many walks together and had many discussions, 
After Eiichi had gone back to Tokushima, Otonashi had gone to 
a mission at Shingu. They had corresponded with each other and 
when Eiichi had gone to live at Hyogo he had contributed two 
or three times to a magazine called “Sunset” which Otonashi and 
Mr. O. were publishing. 

After they had talked for half an hour Otonashi left, as he 
appeared to be busy, upon which the two detectives obediently 
followed him out of the alley. 

The day after Otonashi’s visit a man who said he was a higher 
police official came from the Sannomiya Police Station and in- 
quired what Otonashi had come to talk about, what connection 
Eiichi had with him, what connection he had with , what 
connection he had with Mr. O., and what Eiichi’s opinions were 
of Socialism. 

Eiichi stated them clearly. 

“T am a Christian Socialist,” he said, “but at the same time I 
am a pacifist. I have come to the slums to assist the poor and 
to convert them. But you needn’t be anxious. Although I 
esteem the poor workers I have no scheme to kill any one. I 
respect all,—the workers and all. Perhaps I should rather be 
called a follower of Christ than a Christian Socialist.” 

‘This only made the detective still more troublesome and he 
questioned Eiichi very closely about what sort of people in 
Europe held such opinions and who preached them in Japan. To 
all his questions Eiichi answered clearly. 

However, from that time Eiichi was on the black list of the 
Kobé police. Every three days a detective came and peeped 
through Eiichi’s glass windows. 

On the day following her visit to the slums Kohidé sent a 
long letter saying that she could not imitate Etichi. She said 
nothing about having any further relations with him. 

Soon after the end of November Eiichi set about making 
preparations for Christmas. He had finished his Bible story of 
the friendship of David and Jonathan and he took the manu- 


366 BEFORE THE DAWN 


script to Mr. Matahei Yoshino, a member of the church at 
Nunobiki, who took a great interest in Eiichi and was the man- 
ager of the Kobé Printing Company. Eiichi asked him whether 
he could print the book before Christmas, to which Mr. Yoshino 
agreed and also said that the company would undertake the 
publication of the work. 


CHAPTER LIll 


Miss Higuchi 
MRR RRRRRRRKRRRR 


N a cold rainy day at the end of November Eiichi left 
Shinkawa to bring back his stepmother from Awa. He 
returned with her to the slums four days later. Just 

as he got back ‘Tomoya Takami, a good-looking young man of 
thirty-two or thirty-three, but appearing considerably older, ar- 
rived on the introduction of Otonashi. Eiichi, for the sake of 
his stepmother, had taken yet another house at a rental of two 
yen and fifty sen a month, in which he installed her. 

Takami was busily going about the city every day looking for 
a position. One evening he related to Eiichi the following 
circumstance: 

“The Japan Steamship Company has an opening for two clerks 
and about two weeks ago they put an advertisement of the vacant 
situations in the paper. ‘They got applications from five thou- 
sand seven hundred persons. “The news agency was quite aston- 
ished. Business seems to be very bad just now.” 

Business was, indeed, very bad, and in consequence Eiichi 
received requests for assistance every day from a large number 
of people, whom he helped in various ways. The Toda family 
was his special delight. LEjvichi, who was naturally fond of 
babies, was fonder of the Toda baby than anything else. He 
was in the habit of saying repeatedly that the most beautiful of 
God’s creations was a baby, and Takami, hearing this, smiled 
sadly. He had left his wife and daughter at his native place. 

Christmas came and Eiichi made more preparations than he 
had done the previous year. As he had Takami to help him this 
year, he thought that he would have something very amusing. 
He planned to give a beggars’ party on Christmas Day, and to 
erect a tent on an open space in Azuma-dori which would hold 


eight hundred poor children and where he could keep a merry 
ne, 


368 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Christmas. He also intended to give a treat there at noon to a 
hundred beggars. He could not do it by himself, however, so 
he spoke about it to Dr. Williams and asked whether the ladies 
of the Church would not help him. The ladies willingly under- 
took the task. ‘There was no lack of women helpers among his 
own church members, from Shin to the Inari-worshipper Ju, but 
they were all very busy and there was no reliance to be placed 
on them, — 

Recently there had been coming to the services regularly a 
lady of twenty-five or twenty-six, accompanied by her younger , 
sister. Eiichi was not yet sufficiently well acquainted with her 
to ask her to take part in the work of the church. She was the 
forewoman of the folders at the Kobé Printing Works, where 
she had worked for seven years. On the first evening she fol- 
lowed the open-air preaching up the alley to the meeting-house, 
where she listened outside and went away. ‘The next time she 
came with her younger sister, a nice-looking girl of seventeen or 
eighteen, and entered the meeting-house. Eiichi thought that the 
seeds of faith were sprouting, but did not make any attempt to 
inquire into her experiences. | 

On the 21st of December, “Friendship,” which might be 
called Eiichi’s maiden work, was published. Etichi had drawn 
all the illustrations for the book himself and he was troubled 
to see how badly they were done. Nevertheless, he was de- 
lighted to think that he had produced a book, however slight. 

On the 22nd of December Eiichi was busy here and there 
making preparations for putting up his tent. He was glad to 
find that Tomita, Hayashi, Ueki and other of their public- 
spirited companions were willing to do everything they could to 
help him, so that by the evening of the 24th of December the 
tent was all prepared. 

Tomita had told Eiichi that he must have a watchman, but 
Eiichi said that there was no necessity and had not engaged one. 
On Christmas morning, when he went very early to see the tent, 
Eiichi found a beggar-woman lying inside the tent, apparently 
on the point of death. He questioned her, but could get no 
answer, and there being nothing else to do he carried her on 
his shoulder to his sick ward in Kitahon-machi. She was the 
wreck of a street-walker. 

Some seven or eight ladies of the Kobé Church appeared be- 


MISS HIGUCHI 369 


tween eight and nine o’clock and Eiichi went off to the crockery 
dealer near the Ikuta Shrine to buy a hundred dishes. By ten 
o’clock there was a great pot, capable of holding a bushel of 
rice, boiling on a stove by the side of the tent. “he atmosphere 
was now that of a great festival, He had distributed the in- 
_ yitations the night before and some of the beggars had already 
come and were waiting in the tent. 

Most of the young men in the slums whom he had converted 
came to help him:—Takeda, Asai, Motoyama and Hanaé’s 
brother Katsunosuké, all came to help him. Although Etichi 
had made no request, Miss Higuchi had taken a day’s holiday 
from the Printing Works and had also come to help him. ‘That 
day she had not brought her younger sister with her but had 
come alone. She was busy drawing water. 

All the people from the Church wore aprons over their clothes 
and appeared very busy, but as they were reluctant to lay aside 
their pretensions to be refined ladies the work made little progress. 
The young men had to lend a hand in everything, till at last 
Motoyama said to Eiichi, “They ain’t no use, teacher, these 
people that come from the Hill. Miss Higuchi does more work 
than any of ’em.” 

Miss Higuchi, indeed, worked with all her’might,—not chat- 
tering in a silver voice like the people from the Hill, but carry- 
ing on her work, in silence and quickly, so that Eiichi, seeing 
her, was not a little impressed. He knew that Miss Higuchi was 
not an ordinary woman worker; her manners‘were so refined and 
polite that he knew she came of a good family. ‘There were 
three or four beautiful girls among the people who came from 
the Church on the Hill, and among them a,girl from the higher 
school of Kobé Girls’? College. There was also a girl looking 
like the daughter of a merchant. But they none of them at- 
tracted Eiichi. Miss Higuchi was the only one whose conduct 
made an impression on him. 

Shortly after twelve*o’clock, although only a hundred invita- 
tions had been issued, a crowd of a hundred and twenty beggars 
had collected. Eiichi, however, found seats for them all inside 
the big tent and got the ladies to wait on them. The good things 
provided did not make a long list. There was rice boiled with 
red beans, meat stew, a slice of fish, soup and salad. “Then 
there was a bag of biscuits for each and five oranges. The 


370 ' BEFORE THE DAWN 


meal lasted for over an hour, as some of them ate only half 
and said that they would take the rest home and come again. 
Others came and asked for a share for their daughters; other 
more dreadful cases said that they would eat enough to last two 
days and had as many as seventeen helpings. Others again 
brought receptacles into which they put their helpings. The 
more crude put five or six helpings of rice into their aprons or 
sleeves to carry home. ‘The ladies who waited on them were 
astonished and laughed as they came out of the tent, imitating 
the beggars by pretending to eat like savages or to put their bowls 
in their sleeves. Etichi began to feel almost anxious lest his 
beggars” party should end in being merely an occasion for insult- 
ing the beggars. 

Miss Higuchi, however, said nothing. Eiichi noticed that she 
was superior to the more cultured ladies and did not laugh as 
she went on with her work, pouring the rice unconcernedly into 
the beggars’ sleeves. Watching her from outside the tent Eiichi 
felt a sudden rush of tears to his eyes at the way in which she 
expressed her sympathy with the beggars and her understanding 
of their feelings. “The beggars’ greedy conduct and Miss 
Higuchi’s divine compassion made a picture which he thought 
nothing could surpass. 

All eyes were turned on Miss Higuchi and the beggar receiv- 
ing the rice. All the ladies from the Church on the Hill, stand- 
ing outside the tent, cried, “Good gracious! Did you see that?” 
and began to laugh. ‘Takeda gazed on the scene seriously. All 
the other beggars—the lame, the lepers (there were two present), 
the Shikoku pilgrim, the cripples, the old,—all who were not 
blind fixed their eyes on the greedy beggar, a man of about 
forty who had a large birthmark covering the whole of the 
right side of his face. Then they all began to laugh, but the 
beggar was quite unabashed. 

“Missus,” cried a loud voice, “put some in my sleeve. It'll 
hold some more.” 

Tomita, who had been looking on, found his way to Eiichi. 

“Beggars are greedy, ain’t they?” he said. ‘I’ve been living 
in Shinkawa nearly ten years, but I never knew till now that 


beggars were so greedy. Who’s the lady waiting on em? She’s — 


a wonder, she is. She’s a well-made one too, Are there people 
like her living on the Hill?” 


MISS HIGUCHI 371 


The beggars also saw how kind Miss Higuchi was and began 
to call to her specially. ‘Miss, gi’ us a little more.” “Ain't 
there any more soup, missus?” and other requests. As Miss 
Higuchi came out of the tent Takeda addressed her. 

“Youve become ‘missus,’ eh?” he said. 

Owing to her looking old she really appeared to be like a 
wife, and her kind heart showed her things that unmarried girls 
would not have noticed. 

In the evening there was a lively party of eight hundred chil- 
dren. The hosts were the students of the theological classes of 
the Kwansei Gakuin, and Eiichi was thus saved much trouble. 
It was a very lively scene. Miss Higuchi came with her younger 
sister. 


CHAPTER LIV 
Kohide Again 
Pe KE A PO ee 


N December 26th, under the heading “fA Lively Christ- 

() mas in the Slums,” the papers published a detailed de- 

scription of Ejiichi’s work, covering two columns. 

Eiichi had now been a year in the slums and at last the papers 
were beginning to take some notice of him. 

About noon Kohidé unexpectedly turned up again. She had 
come because what she had seen in the paper had made her 
envious. 

Eiichi did not dislike seeing her; she was always beautiful to 
look at and that day she was looking especially beautiful., E1ichi 
thought that they should be grateful to her for showing her face 
in the slums. 

Kohidé, however, was very irresolute in her manner. Ejichi’s 
manner, also, was still more irresolute, for he had decided that 
he could not love for money’s sake, a fact which Kohidé, who 
was a clever girl, quite understood. Ejtichi knew that to be 
able to lead her luxurious life Kohidé must receive support from 
some patron and that if he made her his wife he would not get 
her undivided love. Nevertheless he realised that there was 
something which drew Kohidé’s heart towards him. It would 
require thousands of yen, however, to make her his own and he 
thought that it was not necessary for him to purchase love. It 
would be a different thing if Kohidé flew into his arms with a 
pure heart, but she generally forgot Eiichi till Shinoda reminded 
her or a paragraph in the paper caused her to pay him a visit. 
However beautiful her face was Eiichi knew that there was a 
very wide gulf between them. 

Still he could not help thinking how the mysterious hand of 
fate had brought her to sit on that rickety chair in a room in 


the slums. 
372 


; 


KOHIDE AGAIN 373 


Their eyes met. Kohidé’s eyes were especially beautiful. As 
her black pupils flashed when she opened her eyes wide you could 
only see just a little of the white of her eye, and every time she 
rolled her eyes her silken soft eyelids moved gently. Her beau- 
tifully curved eyelashes, so long and regular, gave her eyes 
an indescribable expression. Eiichi himself was suffering from 
trachoma and his eyes were not beautiful. When he looked at 
Kohidé’s beautiful pupils he felt inclined to cast down his own 
ugly eyes so as to hide them. 

Love was the pursuit of beauty, and therefore they had only 
to sit as they were to be successful in love. If love was only the 
satisfaction of the sexual desires then love and beauty must be 
separated. Beauty would not last forever. Love and beauty 
could only be attained for a little time while they sat there. He 
did not demand greater love than that. 

Such were the thoughts that ran through Eiichi’s head. 

The two sat there without speaking. Eiichi was silent be- 
cause he thought it would be strange for him to ask her if she 
would love him, and Kohidé only toyed with her hands. What 
a beautiful hand she had! She had a sapphire ring and how well 
++ suited her slender white finger! While there arose in Eiichi 
a desire to possess Kohidé he felt that living together and love 
were two quite different things. In any case he could not leave 
the slums, and for Kohidé to come and live in the slums meant 
that her beauty would fade. He doubted as to his right to possess 
beauty when he could not guarantee its preservation, and he felt 
inclined, though not without pain, to abandon any idea of owner- 
ship. He had a stepmother, he was consumptive, and he was 
poor,—all facts which forbade him the ownership of beauty. 
Also he now had a will of iron. If he decided that he would 
not love a woman, immediately his heart’s promptings were 
stilled and he became passive. Lately he had had many oppor- 
tunities of meeting the beautiful Kohidé, but for more than a 
year he had restrained himself without any trouble and the 
promptings of sexual desire had not moved him. 

Eiichi was glad that he could approach Kohidé with a pure 
heart, but he wondered whether Kohidé’s beauty would be appre- 
ciated by him after he had possessed her. His heart was cold 
and far from such thoughts in her presence. Ejichi was as 
delicate as a woman. He had often thought that if he had been 


374 BEFORE THE DAWN 


a woman he would have had a pure heart. Even to Kohidé he 
could draw near by an apprehension originating, as it were, 
from sexual sympathies. 

However one regarded Kohidé she was a very beautiful 
woman. ‘The only thing that displeased him was that she did not 
stretch out her arms to him. Also she did not like to talk about 
the slums. She only liked to talk about herself and to hear the 
tale of love. He did not want to open the doors of restrained 
desire, but, with God’s permission, to pursue beauty till he was 
satiated. ‘This “Beatrice” seemed to him still to be a guide and 
a light. 

Eiichi told her that his stepmother had come to live with him, 
and also that a friend had visited him, in connection with the O. 
affair, with the request that he would take under his care a man 
who was related to O. Kohidé knew all about the affair from 
what had appeared in the papers and listened with interest. 

“Really, Mr. Niimi,” she said with a sigh, “you are wonder- 
ful. Each time I meet you I marvel at how wonderful you 
are,’ and she opened wider her large eyes. 

Eiichi informed Kohidé of his little book on “Friendship” 
that had just been published and Kohidé asked to see it. Eiichi 
produced a copy and they both looked at the pictures together. 
While they were doing this Kohidé put her hand on Eiichi’s, 
which was laid on the desk. 

“Really, I couldn’t do what you do. It’s extraordinary,” she 
repeated. 

Ejichi looked at her beautiful white hand and began to wonder 
what her meaning was in laying her hand on his. While he 
was gazing the saintly form of Miss Higuchi, as he had seen 
her the day before, appeared like a vision before him. Kohidé 
or Miss Higuchi? ‘The saint or the beauty? He wanted them 
both; he wanted Miss Higuchi’s soul in Kohidé’s body. 

For two or three minutes, with her hand placed on his, 
Kohidé continued to turn over the leaves of “Friendship.” It 
was certainly not unpleasant. 

Kohidé departed with the remark that the New Year was a 
busy time and she would not be able to come again, and Eiichi 
gazing at her departing form remained sunk in thought. 

“Who is that pretty girl?” asked his stepmother. ‘he’s a 
beauty.” 

Eiichi replied bluntly that she was a geisha. 


CHAPTER LV 
The New Year 
WM MK MR KRHK KM RRR RAR 


ROM the day after Christmas Miss Higuchi came every 
3 day to Eiichi’s house, taking advantage of the thirty 
minutes’ rest they had at noon, and bringing three or 

four of the workgirls with her. The Kobé Printing Works were 
only a short distance away, and their midday meal finished, they 
hurried over to spend the remaining fifteen or twenty minutes 
in amusing themselves. Every day at ten minutes past twelve 
Miss Higuchi came in her tight-sleeved blue apron, bringing 
with her the thirteen-year-old Yayoi, and Kaji, who was fifteen 
or sixteen, and Fumi, who was a year older than Kaji. Every 
day she appeared outside the glass sliding-doors as the slum chil- 
dren did. Her face was round and white just like a European’s, 
— much whiter than Kohidé’s,—so that one almost wondered if 
she were a Eurasian. Her hair was wavy and curly and jet black, 
contrasting well with the colour of her skin. Although not a 
beauty there was something fine about her face, which, with her 
mature appearance, made all the people in the slums address her 


Although she came to enjoy herself she had not much to say 
and Ejichi began to suspect that she was crossing the bridge that 
+5 a short cut to love. He learned from her that when she was 
a little girl she had attended a Sunday School in Yokohama, 
that she read the Bible, and that the four of them had folded 
the sheets of Eiichi’s book on “Friendship.” 

Miss Higuchi came from the eastern provinces as you could 
soon tell by her talk. Her pronunciation was clear, her lan- 
guage good, and her declamation excellent. Nevertheless, when 
all was said, Eiichi was a man who had received a higher edu- 
cation while Miss Higuchi was a workwoman and had never been 
even for a year to a girls’ higher school. ‘Therefore, as she 
was not a great beauty, her pane of arousing love was limited. 

37 


376 BEFORE THE DAWN 


She was only just an ordinary clever person, and Eiichi treated 
her pleasantly as a worker and put aside all thoughts of love. 

Miss Higuchi was always very kind, sewing his torn clothes and 
cleaning the parts of the seventeen-mat room that had been 
neglected. Ejichi put it down to her religious zeal and attached 
no other significance to it. 

Every morning at New Year’s time there was a service in 
the meeting-house, when Eiichi gave an address on the Bible. 
After the address, all the people in the house, to the number of 
seventeen,—including Ejichi’s stepmother, the two Kishimotos, 
Yanasé and Hida, the ex-policemen, the Toda family to the 
number of five, “Higé,”’ Izu, Sanko, the three sick persons and 
himself,—inviting also their poor neighbours Katsu and Hanaé 
and their people,—sat down to eat rice-cake broth. Miss Higu- 
chi showed great perseverance in coming to these early morn- 
ing services and assisted in making the broth, though she would 
not stay to eat it, going off with her younger sister when it was 
made. Eiichi praised her in his heart for her self-restraint. 

That New Year the quarrels were more numerous than in the 
previous year. ‘‘Ukarebushi” Matsuko was invited to the New 
Year feast at the wastepaper dealer’s next to Shin’s house and 
as they drank too much saké, a fight was soon started. ‘Then 
when “Fighting” Yasu went in to settle matters the quarrel 
started again more fiercely than before. This led to more 
mediators going in and the quarrel split up into five. Matsuko 
commenced heating the tongs in Eiichi’s kitchen, and when he 
was asked what it was for said that he was going to burn his 
enemies. Eiichi stopped him. 

In the New Year of 1911, before nine o’clock in the morn- 
ing, there were nineteen fights in the tenement houses in Kita- 
hon-machi. 

Then, as happened the year before, Eiichi was asked to assist 
in funeral expenses) On New Year’s Day there was one 
funeral; on the 2nd of January there were two; and on the Sth 
there was one more,—at all of which he was asked to assist. 
Each time there was a funeral at the New Year it made Etichi 
think of Ikkyu Osho’s saying, “Each New Year is a mile-stone 
to the grave, bringing both pleasure and sorrow.” Elichi ex- 
perienced an indescribable pang each time there was a death 


THE NEW YEAR 377 


among these poor suffering people. He felt that death must be 
endured and that he must press onward, but he could not help 
thinking of the wonder of life. 

At the New Year, “Higé,” the maker of earpicks, took a 
house for himself and moved into it. ‘Takami also began to 
attend the newly-opened branch of the “Osaka Morning Post.” 
Then Toda came back from prison in the Hokkaido and took 
away his family. Eiichi’s family was thus suddenly reduced to 
six persons. ‘Then about the middle of the month Mr. Takami’s 
family came from Shingu in Kii Province and he took a house 
in Nakayamaté-dori. 

On the 20th of January the newspapers issued an extra 
edition announcing the sentences passed on K. and O. and the 
others, altogether twenty-four persons. Twelve of them were 
sentenced to capital punishment. Eiichi, when he read the an- 
nouncement, thought that it was a sign of the times and paid no 
further heed to it. That evening Takami came and talked to a 
late hour. 

On the next day a higher police official from the Sannomiya 
Police Station paid Eiichi a very polite visit. Eiichi had not 
been visited by the police lately. The police official asked him 
his opinion on the K. affair and other similar questions. 

Trade being dull the harbour was very quiet. Eiichi, how- 
ever, went every Friday to Bentenhama to preach the Gospel. 
The slackness of trade had thrown three or four hundred people 
out of work and some of them had sought fresh means of liveli- 
hood by stowing themselves away on ships for Yokohama, Moji, 
Korea, Formosa, and even Hongkong. 

Soon after the New Year the emigrants’ inns began to fill 
up with emigrants for Brazil. On the 6th of January a party 
of nearly six hundred emigrants started, and at the end of Jan- 
uary it appeared that there was to be another party of six or 
seven hundred emigrants. At the emigrants’ disinfection station 
near the slums of Shinkawa there were from one to two hun- 
dred emigrants going in and out every day. 

On the morning of the 27th of January, Eiichi was suddenly 
visited by Soeda, a young man of nineteen who had been con- 
verted at the Friday morning services at Bentenhama. Soeda 
had decided that he did not want to live in Japan any longer and 


378 BEFORE THE DAWN 


had arranged to sail on the Kamo-maru on the 30th of January 
as one of the emigrants. As unmarried men were not taken, 
however, he had decided to go under another name as the adopted 
son of another emigrant. Eiichi thought it was strange to change 
his name as he was a Christian, but Soeda was determined not to 
stay in Japan where trade was so bad, and was so strong in his 
desire to breathe a wider air that Eiichi gave him his blessing 
and wished him well in his future career. 

All the people in the slums had to go out every day to look 
for work and it became common to see the men helping their 
wives making match-boxes as job work. As the number of peo- 
ple making match-boxes increased, the pay for a thousand dropped 
by five rin, from eight sen and five rin to eight sen. Without 
this pay, however, they would not have had sufficient to provide 
themselves even with rice-gruel, and so the work continued to 
spread. 

Through the depression in trade wages fell steadily and every 
day the papers announced deaths by suicide owing to the diffi- 
culty of making a livelihood. Every time that Eiichi read of 
these cases in the paper he felt strongly that the time had come 
when Japan could no longer be allowed to sacrifice people like 
that. 

But everybody was silent. “Socialism” was a word prohibited. 
The workers were dumb and the scholars also. Only the cold 
north wind from Siberia wailed across the wintry sky. 


CHAPTER LVI 
The Strike 


MMMM KKK KK RRRRAR 


T was in February that Eiichi discovered that his neighbours 

| Katsunosuké and Hanaé and Mitsu were not working. So 

one day, when Katsunosuké was basking in the sunshine, in 

the alley, Eiichi put aside his manuscript on the prophet Jere- 

miah which he had just begun to write and called him in and 
questioned him. 

“We ain’t working just now,” was Katsu’s explanation. 

Questioned as to the reason he said that there was a strike 
on, the causes of which he recounted. 

‘Tt all began about a little girl of eleven who lives in Azuma- 
dori. She got burned,—right from her feet to her thighs,— 
nearly half her body. The girl’s father,—he’s in prison just 
now for gambling, so as it was pretty bad on the kid. Me and 
the man next above me, Akiyama, we went and asked for some 
money to get her some medicine. Well, you know, mister, the 
company wouldn’t give a single penny and the reason, they say, 
was that it was her own fault that she got burned and the com- 
pany wasn’t responsible for money or anything. It was her 
own fault all right because she’s only a little thing and when 
she was carrying the stuff from the drying-room she accidentally 
dropped some boxes that had been dipped in the phosphorus. So 
if any one’s to blame, why the blame must fall on her all right. 
But if they give a kid of ten or eleven such dangerous work to 
do the company’s in the wrong and I told ’em so straight out. 
They just left Tomé—that’s her name—without calling in a 
doctor or doing anything. The company treats ’em too cruel, 
don’t it? You know they didn’t give a single penny when my 
elder sister died. Not apenny. The doctor said it was through 
her fingering the phosphorus that she lost all her teeth. It was 

379 


380 BEFORE THE DAWN 


through the poison that her teeth come out, and just when this 
happened I'd been thinking how I could get even with such a 
cruel company that didn’t give nothing when my sister died 
although she worked for ’em till her teeth come out. “Then 
lately, you know, business has been bad and wages have been 
falling. Round summer we were getting something like a yen 
a day, but they’ve cut it down twice since then and now we 
don’t get more than seventy-five or seventy-six sen a day, and 
so none of us are too pleased, you know. So I come out of the 
office and I went round everywhere calling out ‘Drop your work. 
Drop your work,’ and they all come rushing out crying ‘What's 
the matter?? Then me and my friend—him what’s above me, 
you know—both of us—we told ’em all about it, and then, be- 
cause they was all discontented, they began calling out ‘Strike, 
strike’ and stopped all the machines. Then the women all come 
out wanting to know what’s the matter and I made ’em a little 
speech,—how wages was falling and that the company wouldn’t 
pay for medicine for those what got burned and wouldn’t give 
anything towards the funerals of those what got killed, and that 
the company was no good and there was nothing for it but to 
go on strike. You know I’ve heard it all from you—about La- 
bour unions over there—so I talk to ’em like that, and then all 
of ’em, down to the little girls, began calling out ‘Let’s go 
home. Let’s go home,’ and they went out,—yes, all the lot of 
?em, from the men down to the women and girls—two hundred 
and forty or so of ’em. ‘There wasn’t a soul left in the place. 
That was the day before yesterday, you know. Well, since then 
the men have been meeting every night in Onoé-dori at Aki- 
yama’s place, and this afternoon me and Akiyama, we’re going 
to see the company on behalf of the men.” 

Katsunosuké told the story with some pride. He had at- 
tended an elementary school for over three years and since then, 
for eight years, he had been in the employ of the Kobé Match 
Company, together with his two elder sisters. He was not a 
scholar, but he was a fine-looking chap and had a natural sharp- 
ness. He was only about nineteen, but he was greatly trusted 
by his mates, who were always ready to accept his advice. He 
had recently become very intimate with Eiichi and had gained a 
knowledge of Labour questions so that he had finally made up 
his mind to engineer a strike. 


THE STRIKE 381 


Eiichi asked Katsunosuké all about the names of the directors 
and managers of the company. He found that the persons who 
really controlled the company were Osaka and Morioka, men 
who were known to be usurers and also the owners of tenement- 
houses in the slums. 

“Katsu,” said Eiichi, “you go on with it. If you don’t go 
for them now you mayn’t get a chance again.” 

“Will you help us, mister?” 

“If standing by you is any use... 

“That'll be fine. Won’t you go with us to-day? When we 
get before them directors we mayn’t be able to talk to ’em.” 

“Tf what you have told me is all, there’s no difficulty about 
my going with you.” 

“All right. I?ll just run over to Akiyama’s house and tell 
him you're coming with us.” 

But Eiichi stopped him. 

“Katsu,” he asked, “have you decided yet what demands you 
are going to make on the company?” 

“No, we ain’t yet, only last night we fixed that wages mustn’t 
go down any more and when any one gets hurt or burnt there’s 
got to be some sort of help given ’em and when one of the 
hands dies there’s got to be something coming by way of con- 
solation.” 

“That’s all right,” said Eiichi, as Katsunosuké was about to 
step into the yard, “you run along.” 


39 


CHAPTER LVII 
At the Matchworks 
WM MK KM MMR KR KR RAR 


T was past one o’clock in the afternoon when Niimi, with 
| Katsunosuké and Akiyama, started off for the Kobé Match- 
works. ‘They found not a soul in the shops—not even the 
manager or any of the directors. Only in the office there were 
three or four clerks in Japanese dress with aprons, who were 
turning over the account books. The delegates explained to a 
clerk the object of their visit, and asking them to wait he left 
them in front of the office while he kept ringing the telephone. 
He was calling up the manager and the directors. Just then an 
unpleasant old man came out and asked them to step in. He led 
them to the reception-room, speaking to them very brusquely. 
Ten minutes passed, and then another ten. Although called the 
reception-room, it was but a poor place, without any ornaments 
and with a desk covered with dust. 

While they were waiting, Akiyama and Katsunosuké told 
Niimi many stories about the cruelty of the company to the work- 
people and the goings on of the officials with loose women. 

“Tn the drying-room,” said Akiyama, “they has a fire about 
every three months, and every time some two or three of the 
girls get burned. You'd be amazed at the awful way the com- 
pany treats em. Last year, in the spring, there was a woman 
burned to death in the drying-room, and what do you think they 
did? ‘They give the family ¥20 to console ’em,—bought *em 
off with only ¥20, mind you. And that Morioka—he’s the 
manager—they do say he was a worker himself once—he’s out 
with women every night and getting dead drunk! It’s cruel.” 

Akiyama was a big, warm-hearted fellow, with his hair all 
standing on end like Ishikawa Goemon, the noted robber, and a 

382 


AT THE MATCHWORKS 383 


red face covered with pimples. He looked a very devil of a 
chap, but was actually most amiable. 

In the intervals of their talk they listened, expecting some 
one to come every minute; but no one came. At last, after they 
had been waiting what seemed to them more than an hour, 
Morioka, the manager, and Osaka, the president of the com- 
pany, together with another man, came impressively into the 
room. Osaka was a tall thin man, over fifty, bald in front, 
with scanty eyebrows and almond eyes. Morioka was a man of 
medium height. He had his hair cut in a fashionable style and 
had large eyes, thin lips and a mouth full of gold teeth. He 
was the first to speak. 

“Well, Akiyama, my man, what’s your business?” 

“T’ve just got something to ask about.” 

“And who is this?” 

“This here’s Mr. Niimi. He’s a Christian pastor down in 
Shinkawa.” 

“And for what business did you want to bring the Christian 
pastor to this place?” asked Morioka. Then turning to Katsuno- 
suké he said, “Look here, Katsu, after all the help given you by 
this company for nearly ten years, don’t you think you're be- 
having very impudently? And it was you too who incited the 
workpeople to strike, by your speech.” 

“Yes.” said Katsu, “that’s true. That was me,” and he gave 
a side glance with his big eyes while his mouth grew sterner. 
“Mister Morioka, just look here. I don’t know much, but it 
seems to me that it’s you that’s got the impudence. The hands 
work from morning to night for 50 sen or ¥1 and you go about 
with loose women every night.” 

“Took here, Katsu,” replied the manager, “did you come here 
to have a quarrel? Because if you did you can have as big a 
quarrel as you like, see.” 

Mr. Osaka lit a cigarette. 

“Now, Morioka, my dear fellow,” he said, “if you get so 
excited we shan’t be able to discuss matters. What are the work- 
people’s demands? ‘That is what we want to hear,” and he 
turned to Akiyama. ‘‘What demands do you make on the com- 
pany? That is what we should like to hear.” 

In answer Akiyama drew from his bosom a sheet of paper 
and laid it down on the dusty table. Morioka took it up. Upon 


384 BEFORE THE DAWN 


it was written the demands of the men according to the advice 
Niimi had given them. ‘The paper had evidently been written 
by Katsunosuké himself. In his unformed handwriting was 
written the following :— 

“The workers at the Kobé Matchworks make the following 
demands on the company: 

“(1) Wages shall not be lowered in future. 

“(2) The sanitary conditions of the workshops shall be im- 
proved and provision made for those injured. 

“(3) Suitable provision shall be made on the death of any of 
the workers. 

“Signed by the delegates. 

*““‘Kamematsu Akiyama. 
“‘Katsunosuké Yamauchi.” 

Morioka passed the paper to Osaka, and Osaka in turn handed 
it to the stranger who accompanied them. Meanwhile both sides 
remained silent. 

““There doesn’t seem anything here to strike about,” said 
Morioka to Akiyama. 

“But what I spoke to you about the day before yesterday,— 
that girl, you know, Tomé Sakai—that got burned,—what are 
you going to do about her? She was burned something terrible, 
and if you don’t give her nothing—well then, you ain’t got no 
compassion in you, and me and my mates can’t go on working 
for you with any feeling of safety.” 

“Tomé Sakai? Not do anything for her? But we have 
already done something for her, as we intended all along.” 

“When?” 

“The day before yesterday,” said Morioka; “something was 
left for her immediately.” 

“I never heard of it and I went to Sakai’s house the day 
before yesterday and yesterday too. I never heard a word about 
it, so there. You're a fine liar, you are.” 

Morioka turned red, but said nothing. 

Niimi, who had been following the conversation, began to 
feel disgusted. Meanwhile the stranger who had accompanied 
the members of the company was staring at his face hard enough 
to bore a hole in it. 

Osaka turned to Akiyama and began speaking in a calm tone. 


, ele eee 


AT THE MATCHWORKS 385 


“Tf we were to listen to all the men’s demands,” he said, 
“the company wouldn’t be able to go on. |You demand that 
wages shall not be lowered, but if we can’t get our prices the 
company can’t continue operations without lowering the wages. 
If we go on paying the same wages as before, we can’t pay even 
the interest on our loans.” 

“And if you go on lowering the wages any more,” said Aki- 
yama, “‘we shan’t be able to get enough to eat. You may think 
it very funny that the workers make such a fuss over five or 
ten sen, but I tell you it means a lot of money to us. [ve got 
a family of eight persons to keep, and I tell you we can’t live 
on ninety sen or a yen a day. Seventy sen goes every day in 
buying the rice we want, and there ain’t much left over for the 
education of the kids and all the rest of it.”’ 

“Akiyama, how many are there besides you and your wife?” 
asked Morioka. 

“Well, there’s my mother and me and the missus, and from 
the eldest girl—she’s twelve—down to the baby there’s five kids. 
That makes eight in all.” 

“What a lot of children,” said Morioka. ‘“‘You avele to 
be more careful.” 

“Well, me and the missus sleeps together, and it can’t be 
helped unless I kill her.” 

“Well, Mister Morioka,” said Katsu, “what are you going 
to do for us?” 

“Now look here,” said Morioka, “don’t you think it would 
be better for you to stop this strike and come back to work from 
to-morrow morning? Then you shall see what fine things ’'m 
going to do for you.” 

“What, just give in, without getting anything?” 

“Of course. If we were to listen to all the demands of the 
men we shouldn’t be able to live.” 

“But we can’t go away without getting something. We 
shouldn’ t be able to show our faces if we didn’t get these three 
things.” 

“T don’t know whether you ringleaders will be able to show 
your faces anywhere, but I know this, that if we gave in to your 
demands the company would come down with a crash. Don’t 
you know, Katsu, that a strike is a criminal offence in Japan?” 


386 BEFORE THE DAWN 


“Well, it ain’t to be helped if I am a criminal. I shall 
get all the blame, so it don’t matter. But, Mister Morioka, these 
three,—ain’t you going to give ’em to us?” 

“No. If we gave in the workers would get so overbearing 
we shouldn’t know what to do with them.” 

‘All the workers has got phossy jaw and all their teeth is 
coming out like my sister. Ain’t you going to do nothing about it 
but just look on?” 

“Katsu, you’re getting really impudent. How can a young 
fellow not yet of age like you understand anything? ‘This com- 
pany is doing everything that the law provides. We have done 
nothing which you can find fault with.” 

‘Are you going to pretend you don’t know even if the work- 
ers die of starvation?” 

“Oh, you’re a Socialist, are you? You've been here ten years. 
Have you forgotten all the kindness the company has shown 
your” | 

“Kindness! Kindness from this company! We never had 
no kindness. It’s we who’ve made the money for the com- 
pany, but it’s never showed us a bit o’ kindness. It’s the other 
way about. It took my sister’s life, this company did.” 

Katsu’s tone had become that of one talking to himself. 

“It’s no use talking to such a dunderhead as you,” said 

Morioka. “‘You’re discharged. Get out.” 
“Mister Morioka,” said Akiyama, “ain’t that a bit rough on 
Katsu? What’s Katsu done wrong? He’s only come here to 
speak on behalf of the workers. If you fire him you'll make the 
others pretty mad.” 

“Akiyama,” said Morioka, “I discharge you too from to- 
day. I tell you we can’t accept these demands. Let the men 
come to us one by one and then we will talk to them. We en- 
gaged them singly and we’ll talk to them singly. You may go 
on striking and stop the machinery for two or three days if you 
like, but we can’t listen to such demands. Don’t you know 
that a strike is against the law? Isn’t it provided in Article 17 
of the Police Regulations for preserving peace and order that any 
one who strikes is liable to imprisonment for not less than one 
month nor more than six months? Akiyama, don’t you know 
that?” 


AT THE MATCHWORKS 387 


“JT don’t know nothing about it,” said Akiyama. 

“Katsu, don’t you know?” 

“Yes, I know,” said Katsu, “but if you think you’re going to 
frighten us I tell you straight that if you cut down the workers’ 
wages any more they won’t be able to buy enough to eat and 
they won’t mind going to prison just for a month,” 

Katsu spoke according to the bringing up of the slums, where 
prison has no terrors. 

“Well, Mister Morioka,” said Akiyama, “you ain’t going to 
listen to our demands and youre going to fire me and Katsu, 
are you!” 

“That’s so,” replied Morioka, “we can’t listen to you, and 
you and Katsu have got to get out. ‘The company will go to 
smash if it keeps men who incite the others to strike.” 

On hearing this Akiyama rose from his chair and fixed an 
angry look on Morioka. 

“You, Morioka,” he said, “what do you damn well think 
we are? Don’t you know that even the smallest worms have 
souls? I?ve worked myself to death for this company for seven- 
teen years, and then you turn round and say it’s the company 
that has been doing all the kindness, and, because we come to 
you on behalf of the workers, you damn well fire us. Look 
here, you Morioka, damn you, what the hell d’you think we’re 
made of?” and in his excitement Akiyama tried to get round 
the table to where Morioka was sitting. Katsu tried to pull 
him back, but Akiyama was too excited to listen to him. 

“Tf they’ve thrown me out,” he went on, “then I don’t be- 
long to this company no more. Anyway, if Pve got to go to 
prison for striking I may as well have something worth going 
for, so I'll knock your damn old head off before I go. Some 
one’s got to give a lesson to a greedy old devil like you,” and 
almost before he had finished speaking he caught hold of the 
front of Morioka’s coat and with his right fist gave Morioka 
four or five punches on the jaw. 

Morioka jumped up to defend himself and Niimi, who had 
been gazing silently at the suspicious stranger, also jumped up 
to soothe Akiyama. But Akiyama would not listen, even when 
Katsu tried to quiet him. He would not let go of Morioka’s 
coat. 


388 BEFORE THE DAWN 


Osaka continued to sit quite quietly in his chair. 

Then the stranger whom Niimi had thought suspicious began 
to. speak. (Seta hs at te a ar 

“You, Akiyama and Katsu,” he said, “you must come at once 
to the Kobé Police Station. You’re wanted.” 

He spoke quietly, but Akiyama was so surprised that he let go 
of Morioka’s coat. 

“Who are’ you?” he asked. 

“I am a detective from the Kobé Police Station. You must 
both of you come at once with me, do you hear?” 

“You ain’t got no reason for taking me into custody,” said 
Akiyama. 

“Never mind,” said the detective, “you come along.” 

‘There you are,” said Morioka, “that’s what comes of you 
workers getting insolent.” 

The detective took the two men out of the room and Eiichi 
saw them disappear along Onoé-dori, going in the direction of 
Sannomiya in the early winter twilight. He hastened off to 
the slums to announce that Akiyama and Katsu had been ar- 
rested. ! 

After he had left the news at Katsu’s house Ejichi imme- 
diately went to the house of Tomé Sakai in Azuma-dori. ‘The 
house consisted of two two-mat rooms and in the back one a 
girl of eleven years old was lying. She had a round face, with 
sunken eyes and a skin as white as a European’s. In the slums 
such white skins are not uncommon. Her body was covered 
with flour. The mother, who was an ugly one-eyed woman, 
told Eiichi she had six children and that her husband had been 
sent to prison for stealing a cask worth thirty-six sen. From 
this Eiichi knew that Katsunosuké’s statement that he had been 
sent to prison for gambling was inaccurate. 

Eiichi asked if any inquiries had been made by the Match 
Company. 

“Yes, they been here a while ago,” said the mother, “and 
left three yen wrapped in a bit o” paper.” 

“Three yen?” said Ejichi, thinking that he had not heard cor- 
rectly, but the woman repeated that it was three yen. 

Eiichi then told her that the three of them had been to the 
Match Works to negotiate with the company and that finally 
Akiyama and Katsunosuké had been ‘arrested. 


AT THE MATCHWORKS. 389 


Eiichi was anxious about Tomé’s condition and made many 
inquiries. Finding that a doctor had not yet been called, he 
hastened off to the local physician, Dr. Tazawa, and got him 
to come. 

Dr. Tazawa examined the girl but only said that her con- 
dition was dangerous. Eiichi asked if anything could be done, 
but the doctor said that it was too late. 

“Will she die?” asked Eiichi, and the doctor said she would 
if erysipelas developed. | 

The mother did not appear to be troubled at this announce- 
ment, but Eiichi was shocked. Dr. Tazawa went away without | 
telling them what to do. 

Eiichi went to call Dr. Maeda, who lived across the river. 
Dr. Maeda received him very kindly and, after hearing from 
him the condition of the patient, prepared bandages and accom- 
panied him to the house, where he took the flour off Tomé’s 
burns and bound them up after applying some medicine. Where 
she had been burned the skin had become inflamed and Enichi 
was shocked at her condition. 

After Tomé had been bandaged Eiichi listened to the mother’s 
story of how they lived. In the meantime, however, Hanaé 
came to tell him that a number of the workers had collected 
at Akiyama’s house and were consulting as to what was to be 
done, and would he please come immediately. Etichi went off 
at once to Onoé-dori, to Akiyama’s house, a little one-storied 
building of two rooms, one four and the other six mats. He 
found the house filled with some thirty people, so that there was 
hardly room to move. Among them was the elder brother of 
the gamin Matsuzo Iwanuma, whom Eiichi had taken under his 
care, and Tsuchida, whose love affair with Katsu’s sister had 
caused so much dissension in the house next door in the autumn. 
But the ablest seemed to be an intelligent-looking young man 
named Horié. 

Eiichi related the details of the negotiations with the com- 
pany and how the company had sent three yen to Tomé Sakai’s 
house, and said that since the company had had Akiyama and 
Katsu arrested there was nothing to be done but continue the 
fight boldly. This, of course, meant the continuance of the 
strike, 

Tsuchida expressed great sympathy with Katsunosuké, 


390 - BEFORE THE DAWN 


“That company’s well known for its obstinacy,” he said. 
“We got to go for ’em this time.” 

Horié was troubled at Akiyama’s plight, and Eiichi explained 
the meaning of the seventeenth article of the Police Peace 
Regulations. 

The strike continued for another day, but the workers were 
soon unable to maintain their solidarity, and some of them went 
back to work. ‘Then the workers’ committee placed a picket at 
the gate of the works, and soon after Tsuchida came to Ejichi’s 
house to inform him of this a neighbour of ‘Tomé Sakai’s came 
to say that she was dead. ‘Then, in turn, came Hirano, the 
higher police official from the Kobé Police Station who was al- 
ways coming,—a fat, square-faced man. 

“Mr. Niimi,” he announced politely, “the Chief of the Judi- 
cial Section of the Police Station would like to see you this 
morning. Could you come at once.” 

Eiichi thought that matters were now hopeless. When he 
went to the Police Station, the Chief of the Judicial Section, 
who appeared to know all that took place at the meeting the 
night before, stated firmly that he must charge Eiichi’ with 
being the instigator of the strike. Eiichi made no answer to 
the charge. He merely told the official that he wished to go 
home for a short time to attend his family affairs and arrange 
the funeral of ‘Tomé Sakai, after which he would go to prison. 

On his way home Eiichi ordered a coffin and bearers as he 
passed the Hanaman, and went at once to Sakai’s house. ‘There 
he looked at Tomé’s white face and shut, sunken eyes. ‘The 
sight was all the more pitiful because a baby was sleeping by 
the side of the corpse, as they had no other quilt. 

Eiichi conducted the funeral hastily as he was afraid that the 
police would be sent from the station to fetch him at any 
moment. When the coffin arrived he himself clothed the body 
in the only nightdress he had left and placed it in the coffin with 
the bandages still on. 

It was just noon and Miss Higuchi, according to her usual 
custom, had come to Eiichi’s house during the dinner interval 
at the Kobé Printing Works. When she heard that Eiichi was 
conducting a funeral she went just as she was, in her working 


dress, to help him. Eiichi felt relieved. He and Miss Higuchi 


AT THE MATCHWORKS 391 


offered up a short prayer and finished. the service with a reading 
from the Bible. 

The funeral escort was just starting when they saw standing 
at the door another police official—not Hirano, but Arita, a 
darkish man of five fect eight in height, who wore coloured 
glasses. 

“Mr. Niimi,” he said, “I have come to inform you that your 
presence is required at the Procurator’s Office in the Kobé Dis- 
trict Court by two o’clock. If you can I should like you to 
come with me.” 

With this he handed to Eiichi a large grey envelope with the 
seal of the Procurator’s Office, containing the summons. 

Although it was a day in February, the middle of winter, 
the sun was shining with dazzling brilliance into every corner 
of the slums in a way to make the heart rejoice. Eiichi took 
the summons and uttered a silent prayer as he looked at the 
noonday sun. 

Ejichi explained the circumstances very briefly to Miss Higuchi, 
—that he was going to the Procurator’s Office and that perhaps 
he would not be able to return for five or six months, and that 
she must consult with Dr. Williams after he had gone and ask 
his services for the good of the mission. He also requested her 
to accompany the funeral of Tomé to the Kasugano crema- 
torium. Ejichi then accompanied the police official out of the 
alley, followed by the tears of Miss Higuchi. 

Arita accompanied Eiichi to the Procurator’s Office of the 
Kobé District Court, where they arrived after one o'clock, and 
Ejichi had to wait in a wide stone passage for more than an 
hour before he was summoned by the Procurator. The police 
official had gone away after he had seen Eiichi into the passage 
and Eiichi sat upon a hard narrow bench staring at the stone 
floor, awaiting examination. He passed the time in prayer and 
meditation, while ever and anon the vision of Tomé Sakai’s 
corpse came clearly before his eyes. Eiichi thought of Lincoln’s 
night of prayer before he issued his proclamation for the aboli- 
tion of slavery, and he remained sunk in prayer and meditation 
on the hard narrow bench. He felt that this affair was a stum- 
bling-block in his path, but he believed that he had not done 
anything wrong; all progress in the world was in that way. 


392 BEFORE THE DAWN 


They could not imprison his soul, and he made up his mind to 
spending five or six months in prison in prayer and meditation. 

Forty minutes,—fifty minutes passed while he waited for the 
Procurator. The westering sun shone into the windows, and 
it seemed that the Procurator’s Office, having finished all the 
business during the morning, was not going to examine any- 
body in the afternoon. Eiichi was the only one waiting. 

Five minutes elapsed and then ten minutes, Eiichi continued 
to pray silently. The stone passage was suffused with a beautiful 
radiance. 


CHAPTER LVIII 


Conclusion—Elichi’s Examination 


MRR RRRRRRRRRRAR 


HE room for the examination of accused persons was 
very quiet. It was a comfortless chamber with white- 
washed walls, but this did not concern Eiichi. ‘There 

was a large glass window to the east, but apparently it did not 
catch the light, as the room was very gloomy. Opposite the 
window was a three-storied red-brick building, the Procurator’s 
Office, where a number of Procurators and clerks were con- 
tinually coming and going. Ejichi thought with a shiver how 
the Procurators worked there every day professionally to punish 
people. ‘The man who had conducted him to the room peeped 
in as he passed along the passage. 

Eiichi looked at the soot-spots on the ceiling, at the spiders’ 
webs in the corners, at the trees outside, which seemed to expand 
and contract owing to the refraction of the glass in the window, 
at the patterns formed by the inkstains on the desk. Everything 
was very still. 

At times anxiety took possession of Ejichi’s mind, but he soon 
dismissed it. In his heart he felt that he had acted righteously 
and had nothing to fear. ‘When they shall lead you, and de- 
liver you up, take no thought beforehand what ye shall speak, 
neither do ye premeditate; but whatsoever shall be given you in 
that hour, that speak you, for it is not ye that speak, but the Holy 
Ghost.” He remembered that these words were in the Bible 
and he was not afraid. The trial scene in “Alice in Wonder- 
land” also came to his mind and he chuckled to himself. 

Just then the Procurator came in and Eiichi rose respectfully. 
The Procurator asked Eiichi to sit down, and, after putting a 
notebook marked “‘Civil Commotions” on the desk, he sat down 
directly opposite Eiichi. 

“Ts your name Eiichi Niimi?” 


394 BEFORE THE DAWN 
han 2? 


“What is your business?” 

“T am a teacher of Christianity.” 

“Where did you go to school?” 

“After attending the Middle School I spent four or five 
years studying at different colleges.” 

“Are your parents alive?” 

“No. 99 

“How old are you?” 

“T am twenty-three years old.” 

The Procurator did not relax the muscles of his face but 
‘ questioned him sternly. Eiichi thought that a Procurator’s must 
be a distressing profession; something a little more hate would 
be preferable. 

“Where do you live?” 

“T live at 220 Kitahon-machi, Kobé.” 

“How long have you lived there?” 

“This is the third year that I have lived there.” 

“What do you do there?” 

Eiichi felt very cold about the legs. The Procurator, while 
he warmed his hands at the brazier, kept his eyes fixed on Eiichi’s 
face, and Eiichi in turn gazed at the Procurator. 

“T assist people in distress,’ he said. 

“Tt is said that you preach Socialism. Is it true?” 

Eiichi was silent. 

“What connection have you with a man named Katsu?” 

“Tf by Katsu you mean Katsunosuké Yamauchi I am well 
acquainted with him because he lives next door to me.” 

“Why did you incite that young man to go on strike?” 

“T do not remember that I incited him to strike.” 

“But Katsu says you did.” 

“That is plainly a mistake. It was after the strike started 
that he came to consult me.” 

“But it is stated that it was you who drew up the men’s de- 
mands,—Katsu says so.” 

“That is wrong. I told him to put down what he thought 
best.” 

“Then I ask you why did you go with Akiyama and Katsu 
to interview the directors of the Kobé Match Company?” 

“T went because Katsu asked me to.” 


CONCLUSION—EIICHI’S EXAMINATION 395 


“Tt is stated that you have very extreme opinions. What are 
your principles actually?” 

“My principles are those of Christian Socialism.” 

“Then you have no use for the ————*?” 

“No, that is not the case. What I claim is just treatment for 
the poor and the oppressed workers.” 

The Procurator quietly wrote something down in his note- 
book and after a pause continued his examination. 

“What do you mean by just treatment? Do you mean the 
equal distribution of property?” 

“No, it means giving the workers a fair remuneration and 
the taking away from the idle rich of the dividends falling into 
their pockets.” 

“Do you believe that time will ever come?” 

“T believe it will.” 

“Then you have hopes of a revolution?” 

The Procurator asked this question with a glare. 

“No, I do not necessarily desire a revolution,” answered 
Eiichi. 

“Then how can your idle dream be realised? Is there any 
way it can be brought about without a revolution?” 

“T think it will come by a change of heart among the people 
and by the development of workers’ organisations.” 

“No, you don’t. You want to bring about a revolution. Your 
idea is to revolutionise the country by inciting the poor and the 
workers. ‘That’s what it looks like by the way you are going 
on. Isn’t that right?” 

“Tf you choose to regard it like that it’s your own affair.” 

“My own affair? What do you mean?” 

The Procurator’s eyebrows went up and he shouted this in 
a loud voice. Eiichi had had his eyes cast down, but, startled by 
the Procurator’s shout, he raised them to stare at him. 

“What do you mean by looking at me like that?” thundered 
the Procurator, who seemed to be trying to fluster Eiichi. 

Eiichi was silent, leaving it to the Procurator to fall into a 
passion. He was more interested in making a psychological 
study of the Procurator,—in watching the changing clouds of 
passion sweep across his face. He felt as if he were making a 


* The blank is in the original. Apparently the reference is to the 
Emperor. 


396 BEFORE THE DAWN 


practical study in the class-room of an actual case of mental 
disorder, so calm was he and so far from being confused. On 
closer examination it appeared that the Procurator’s profession 
was a very disagreeable one. It was a profession requiring one 
to be angry, to pose as righteous, to judge one’s fellow-creatures. 
Worse than that it unhappily exacted a belief that all persons 
were sinners. 

‘This only made Eiichi sympathise all the more with the Pro- 
curator, who lived only in the past, not in the present or future; 
who spent his time in investigating deeds done long ago,—some- 
times the crimes of five or six years past,—not only the offence 
of some woman from the slums who had stolen a petticoat, but 
also the sending to prison for a year and a half of a man 
who had stolen a cask. It was in such useless tasks that the 
Procurators wasted their lives, Eiichi thought; it was impossible 
not to feel sympathy for them. 

“What do you mean by staring at me in that insolent 
way?” 

The Procurator continued to rage; his face twitched and his 
lips grew pale. 

“Without a revolution how can you overthrow our present 
social organisation? I want you to make that point clear to 
me.” 

Exichi was silent. One minute, two minutes passed. Some 
five or six sparrows were hopping from branch to branch of the 
camphor-tree in the Court garden, thoroughly enjoying them- 
selves. Eiichi wondered if there were any Mr. Procurators in 
sparrow-land. He was silent because he knew that it was no use 
saying anything to the enraged Procurator. 

Three minutes passed, four minutes, five minutes. The Pro- 
curator had cast down his eyes and was gazing vacantly at his 
notebook. He was trembling to his finger tips. It was impos- 
sible to tell which was the judicial official. The accused for 
his part was quite calm; it was the judge who was agitated. 
Eiichi thought that he would not reply to the stupid questions 
that the Procurator kept repeating, but he kept his eyes wide 
open while he gazed at the desk. Man silent was more lovable 
than man talking. 

ay the Procurator’s profession demanded that he should not 
be silent, 


CONCLUSION—EIICHI’S EXAMINATION 397 


“Why don’t you answer me! If you won’t answer means 
can be found to make you.” 

At this Eiichi broke his long silence. 

“Do you want to make me fly into a passion?” he asked. 
“However much you try I shall certainly not get angry. It is 
no use my answering you while you are in such a passion your- 
self and I certainly shall not do it.” 

This answer appeared to make the Procurator think and he 
was silent. “There was silence between them for another three or 
four minutes, after which the Procurator went out of the room, 
leaving the police report, his notebook and everything else on 
the desk as they were. 

Eiichi left alone in the room was again plunged into medita- 
tion. ‘Ten minutes passed and the Procurator did not return. 
By stretching his neck Etichi could read upside down what was 
written in the police record lying open on the desk. It was a 
report on his conduct. 

“This person, though he appears guileless, is crafty and by 
the extreme speeches he makes seems to cherish the idea of in- 
citing a revolution.” 

This sentence ran over two lines and a half. Eiichi under- 
stood now why he had been so persistently questioned about a 
revolution. 

The Procurator came back along the stone passage. He 
seemed to be finding the examination troublesome. 

As soon as the Procurator came in a clerk from the Procura- 
tor’s Office followed him with a writing-box in one hand. 

The Procurator began Elichi’s examination all over again 
from the beginning. 

“What do you mean by workers’ organisations?” 

Eiichi felt it very tedious to have to answer such questions. 

““Workers’ organisations are to enable the workers to ward 
off oppression by the capitalists.” 

“But isn’t that the same as Socialism?” 

“Socialism is only a principle. Workers’ organisations are 
practical associations of workers.” 

“Are these workers’ organisations for the purpose of start- 
ing strikes?” 

“No, they are not specially for starting strikes. “They are for 
enabling the workers to improve their position.” 


398 BEFORE THE DAWN 


After that the Procurator asked many questions about the 
strike at the Kobé Match Works and as he had now become very 
calm Eiichi answered all the questions quietly, while the clerk 
wrote the answers down one by one. 

Eiichi had made up his mind that he would have to go to 
prison although he did not think he had committed any offence. 

The lights were lit before the examination was completed, 
when Etichi was allowed to go home for the time being. As 
he trudged home along busy Moto-machi, deep in thought, it 
seemed to him that the present social system was worthless beyond 
conception, based as it was upon an insecure foundation, and he 
smiled as he entered the slums at Shinkawa. 

Almost before he had got into the alleys the children had 
collected to escort him to his house, holding on to his two hands, 
to his sleeves, to the ends of his girdle, to everything that they 
could seize hold of. Eiichi stroked the cheeks of Kinu, a little 
girl five years old that year, the daughter of a scavenger, and 
compared her face with that of the Procurator. How degenerate 
was the face of the Procurator compared with Kinu’s! “Yes, 
the slums are best,” he said to himself. ‘The slums are best. 
With such children yearning for my love I will leave the slums 
no more.” In spite of his hatred for the country of heartless 
capitalism he felt that he could not abandon his attachment to 
the world of beautiful children, poor as they were. 

Although Eiichi expected every day to receive an order from 
the Court or a notice from the police, nothing came. In spite 
of his anxiety he continued to enjoy his life in the slums and 
month after month came and passed. 

Thus Eiichi, his mind at rest, continued to minister to the 
poor. 


THE END. 


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Before the dawn 


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